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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25824097">A Demon Like Him</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz/pseuds/EllenOfOz'>EllenOfOz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Caring John Winchester, Demon Castiel (Supernatural), Incubus Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Magical Realism, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Switching, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Warlock Dean Winchester, looks like dubcon but isn't</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:20:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,595</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25824097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz/pseuds/EllenOfOz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester doesn’t want to be a warlock. The idea of working in a lab, channeling demonic magic into enchanted batteries is not what he wants to do with his life, but it’s a dangerous opinion to have—his father was a powerful and well-connected warlock, and Dean is expected to follow the family tradition.</p><p>His only way out is to fail the demon summoning class—failure means expulsion from the Warlock College. Despite Dean’s best efforts to fumble the summoning, it works. Although not the way anyone expects.</p><p>Dean’s demon, Castiel, is an incubus, but also a powerful mage on a mission to rebalance the magic that is being stripped from Demonside by warlocks. </p><p>Dean must choose: fail out of his final exam and turn his back on becoming a warlock, or help Castiel and graduate. But he doesn’t count on how hot the incubus is, or how close they have become in just a few days.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>444</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Destiel Harlequin Challenge 2020, Fandom For Australia, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandalaRose/gifts">MandalaRose</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome to my story for the Destiel Harlequin Challenge for 2020!</p><p>This story was written especially for MandalaRose, who chose this summary from the Harlequin list as her prompt for the Fandom For Australia auction. The brief was along the lines of "I'm interested in the world and magic system you'd build for this one", and boy, did I have fun (and a few grey hairs) with this world. I hope you enjoy it, Manda, and thanks for all your help with getting it into some kind of shape.</p><p>It's been a tricky year for writing, hasn't it? I owe plenty of thanks for the support given by my Trashcan besties for pulling me through some wicked writers block, especially TrenchcoatBaby and WaywardJenn, and thanks also to the lovely members and mods of the Harlequin discord.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Edit:</b> This first chapter now contains artwork created by the lovely <a href="https://dmsilvisart.tumblr.com/post/631179010512224256/demon-cas-ficfacers-3of4">Dmsilvis</a>, as part of the FicFacers auction. Thank you! </p><p>My fic cover image includes an image by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@creativepowerrr?utm_source=unsplash&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_content=creditCopyText">kat herrera</a> on Unsplash (I edited to include Cas' face).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Dean takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders to try to release some tension. It's now or never. Hopefully never, in fact. </p><p>He steps towards the summoning circle on the classroom floor. </p><p>Dean risks a glance towards the panel, earning him an encouraging nod from Dr. Moseley, and an indifferent scowl from Mr. Adler. </p><p>He turns his eyes back to the candles in front of him, arranged at the points of a pentagram and surrounded by a circle of salt.</p><p>He's been working up to this for years—the high hopes of his family weighing heavily on his shoulders. That's why the outcome of this summoning ritual can only go one way. </p><p>He has to fail at summoning a demon. </p><p>Long before Dean had started college, he'd been expected to follow in his father’s footsteps and become one of the specially-trained Warlocks of the Grove, the corporation that captures Demonic magic. He’s always just sort of...gone along with it. But now that he’s completing his final year—this first part of his final exam—he knows this isn’t for him. He doesn’t want to be a warlock, and the only way out of his four-year professional certification is to fail. On purpose. </p><p>He takes another deep breath, forcing himself to unclench his jaw as he raises his hands so that the long sleeves of the stupid ceremonial robe they’ve made him wear fall back from his forearms. He draws magic from the amulet he wears around his neck, the battery containing Demonic energy provided by the university glowing faintly in the dim candlelight. </p><p>He starts to cast the ritual the way Missouri taught them over the last few months, before his father’s words echo in his mind from years ago, “<em>Wording is everything in a ritual, Dean. Be clear, don’t mumble</em> .” He’s trying to fail, here—he’s <em>supposed</em> to be getting it wrong. The candles flare, five columns of fire streaking up towards the ceiling. Shit, he needs to use less magic. </p><p>He changes a few of the words of his incantation, and shuffles forward, purposely knocking his foot into the candle in front of him, allowing it to flicker out as it hits the floor. He hears a gasp from behind him, from the watching teachers. That should do it. </p><p>The ambient magic that has been building in the room for the last few minutes fizzles a little, the candles flickering alarmingly. One of them actually starts sparking like a fourth of July firework, sending golden sparks across the floor, and Dean takes a step to the side to avoid his boots catching fire. The already-dimmed lights around the walls start flickering, even go out for a few seconds before blinking back on again. </p><p>What the hell is happening? He should be failing right now—the magic winding down with a comical sad trombone sound. Instead, the tight magical charge is increasing in a way that sets Dean's teeth on edge. He steps back, keeping his hands raised to try to grip onto the edges of the summoning spell that he’s sure is dissipating, even though the ambient magic seems to only be rising. </p><p>He’s also pretty sure that a summoning isn’t supposed to create an explosion big enough to make his ears ring, or create clouds of smoke obscuring the summoning circle.</p><p>Dean cringes, sure that he’s blown at least part of the classroom they’re using for this examination apart. He’s about to get thrown out of the school, in a big way. Whichever way it’s happened, he’s done it after all, thank fuck.</p><p>He’s not prepared for the gasp he hears from behind him. He peers into the smoke as it clears, making something—or someone—out through the haze. It’s a man. A tall, broad-shouldered, tousle-haired man. And he’s staring, one eyebrow raised, at Dean, his eyes perfectly black.</p><p>Dean’s jaw drops. It wasn’t supposed to work. There wasn’t supposed to be a demon here. And yet, here one stands. </p><p>The demon steps forward, then halts as it reaches the edge of the summoning circle. As the smoke clears, Dean’s eyes drop to the rest of the guy’s form and quickly jump back up—he’s completely naked, and Dean's shock is overtaken by his embarrassment. </p><p>
  <em>What the actual fuck?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>A throat clearing behind him refocuses his attention, and when he glances back at Missouri, she nods towards the demon, her eyes wide. Her message is clear: <em>Get on with it!</em></p><p>Crap, the binding! Dean hadn't actually expected to have to do this part, but now that it's worked… </p><p>He raises his hands, willing the demonic energy to rise from the amulet he wears around his neck. “Demon, I have invoked you. Do you agree to be bound to me?”</p><p>The demon zeroes in on Dean as soon as he speaks, his brows drawn, his gaze piercing and, Dean admits, as completely fucking hot as it is terrifying. </p><p>The next words from the enchantment are lost to Dean. Who the fuck knows what “thee” and “thou” bullshit is supposed to come next? He remembers the intent, though. The Accords say he's got to bind the demon now or it will be free, and he's paid enough attention in class to know that unbound demons pretty much always turn on the warlock who summoned them. </p><p>So he wings it. “Will you bind your magic to mine?” </p><p>The demon flinches, a snarl twisting his mouth. “Yes,” he growls, the sound sending a jolt of terror down Dean’s spine.</p><p>“Will you bind your magic to mine?” Dean repeats, feeling a static pressure building in the room. </p><p>The demon agrees again, and Dean repeats the question a final time to make this part of the binding complete. “Do you bind your magic…” He pauses as the static grows. His hair stands on end. </p><p>“...to mine?”</p><p>The candles around the summoning circle flare, the flames tinged with green as the demonic energy expands in the room, then contracts again towards Dean.</p><p>Dean gasps as a flood of energy funnels into him. The demon's energy is surprisingly light, a lingering sort of almost-scent of summer thunderstorms. He steps forward to break the line of salt with the toe of his boot.</p><p>As the summoning circle breaks, the demon prowls forward, his black eyes trained resolutely on Dean. </p><p>Dean takes a step back again, every part of him tense. His magic stirs in his chest as the demon approaches him, leaning in close to one side of his face without touching him, and inhaling deeply. </p><p>“Warlock,” the demon rumbles, his low voice sending another shiver, a thrill, right through Dean down to his toes. </p><p>Dean closes his eyes, licking at his dry lips and desperately trying to remember the next part of the protocol. The naming! He needs the demon’s name to complete the binding.</p><p>Drawing on the energy he can now feel sizzling along his limbs, he says, “Demon, tell me your name.”</p><p>The demon flinches back, scowling. Dean nearly apologizes—his magic is more powerful now, and he must have put too much into the spell, but he recovers quickly and stands tall, his black eyes back on Dean’s face. “I am Castiel,” he says, and Dean shivers again.</p><p>“Hey. I’m Dean.” He shifts under the demon’s scrutiny, even as he aims for some kind of casual. He’s pretty sure the rules don’t say he has to talk like any of his professors do. “Could, uh, someone get him some clothes, please?” he asks. It’s awkward enough to have summoned a demon accidentally, but to have to speak to him while he’s all…naked? Someone shuffles around behind him and passes Dean a tan trench coat, which he then passes to Castiel. “Here ya go, put that on.”</p><p>Castiel eyes the coat speculatively, then complies, sliding his arms into it and tying it closed around his middle. </p><p>Dean startles as a clapping sound comes from his left. When he turns, Mister Adler has stepped forward. His demon looms behind him, the infernal’s unnerving black eyes trained on Castiel.</p><p>“Well done, Mister, uh…” Adler looks down at the paper on the clipboard in his hands. “Mister Winchester. Your methods were a little...unconventional, but you did it. Congratulations.” He holds out a hand, and Dean shakes it, a little put off by the man’s cold, limp grip. </p><p>“Thank you, sir,” he says, a little bewildered. </p><p>Adler turns to the demon. “And welcome, Castiel, was it? I must admit, you’re the first incubus we’ve seen in many years! Isn’t that so, Missouri?”</p><p>Missouri agrees, her eyes still wide with wonder.</p><p>Dean’s eyes flick back to the demon, his stomach sinking like a stone. An incubus? Castiel had been eyeing the examination panel with curiosity, but when he notices Dean’s eyes on him, he directs his gaze back to Dean, dark and a little hungry. </p><p>Oh crap.</p><p>“Welcome to Earth,” Adler says, eyeing the demon with badly concealed distaste.</p><p>Castiel inclines his head slightly towards Adler in what Dean assumes is thanks, then his gaze narrows. He turns his dark eyes back on Dean, instead. “I have news from Demonside, but I am to deliver it directly to your ruling council.”</p><p>Dean lifts his brows, licking his lip nervously as the demon stares him down. “Uh—” he begins, but Adler speaks over him.</p><p>“I am a member of the Council of the Grove. You may deliver your message to me.” </p><p>Castiel raises one eyebrow as he looks at Adler again. “All of the council,” he says, nonplussed. </p><p>Adler hesitates for a moment, a strained almost-grin on his face. “Many of the council will be at the graduation ceremony. You can deliver your message then.” He gestures to Dean, almost as an afterthought. “If you’re still with Dean by then, naturally. Sometimes the bond...doesn’t take,” he adds, with a chuckle. </p><p>That asshole. Just because Dean hadn’t even meant to get this far doesn’t mean he's going to fuck up the second part of the exam. He and Castiel now have two days to practice drawing magic and casting together, before the final exam on Monday afternoon.</p><p>Castiel follows Adler’s hand as it waves towards Dean, his unflinching gaze landing back on Dean’s face as though it never means to leave. “When is this ceremony?”</p><p>“Next Wednesday, right?” Dean asks, tearing his eyes away from the demon to glance at Adler. “It’s about five days away,” he tells Castiel.</p><p>The demon’s face darkens into a scowl. “Five days? That’s unacceptable—”</p><p>“I’m afraid it’s the best we can offer,” Adler interrupts. “Now if you’ll excuse me, we have other students waiting for their turn.” </p><p>Castiel glares at Adler for a few moments, before he nods once. “Very well.” </p><p>Adler turns away to direct the setting up of the room for the next student, and Dean lets out his held breath. He steps back from Castiel. He doesn’t want this. How long he’s gonna be able to hold onto his sanity before screaming is anyone’s guess.</p><p>He turns to Missouri. His teacher mirrors his grimace as she holds out her arms to pull him into a tight hug. Her demon, a tiny imp with long, pointy ears, darts around Dean’s legs, chittering agitatedly.</p><p>“Congratulations?” Missouri says.</p><p>Dean slumps into her arms, finally letting his frustration and panic to the surface. He says quietly by her ear, “Missouri, I didn’t mean to summon anything—”</p><p>“I know, sugar,” Missouri says gently as she pulls back to look at him, still grasping his arms, wincing as her demon uses its claws to grip her jeans, climbing up her body to perch on her shoulder. “I know how you felt about that exam. Didn’t you tell me yesterday that you wanted to fail it?”</p><p>“Well, I tried to get it wrong, but…” he trails off, gesturing helplessly to the demon currently watching him from a few steps away, his black eyes wary, but curious.</p><p>“Hm,” Missouri agrees. “Your incantation shouldn’t have pulled even an imp out, but somehow, it did. Like it or not, Dean, you’re a warlock.”</p><p>Dean nods unhappily. It seems that any control he might have been feeling over his life is still slipping through his fingers like smoke. He has no choice but to follow the path laid out before him—to follow in his father’s footsteps—the very path he’s been trying to avoid for the last few years. </p><p>Sam's gonna kill him when he finds out. And Charlie. What's he gonna say to her when they meet up for drinks later tonight? He dismisses all that as future Dean’s problem, as he ducks his head. “Thanks, Missouri.”</p><p>Missouri smiles, giving his arm a squeeze. “Your dad will be real proud of you, honey.”</p><p>Dean grimaces at that. He doesn’t need the old man’s approval, but the idea that he won’t have to face his disappointment is kinda welcome. Before he turns to leave, he leans in to murmur to Missouri, “Hey, what’s the deal with this ‘council?’ I’ve never heard them called that before.” Adler was one of the directors of the Grove, the company that produced enchanted batteries for the magic-using population across Kansas and beyond. </p><p>“It’s an old name for the warlock leaders before the Grove became incorporated,” Missouri replies. “Back a few hundred years or so. Did you sleep through your magical history class, Dean?” She gives him a disapproving look that has him ducking his head.</p><p>Dean hurriedly bids Missouri goodnight and heads for the door. He shucks the spent amulet and ceremonial robe over his head, leaving them neatly folded by the classroom door with the other robes. He turns to see the incubus still watching him with interest from a few feet away. Dean cocks his head towards the door, saying, “C’mon.” </p><p>He takes the elevator to ground level, but before he heads out through the magical wards and into the late spring evening, he remembers one more thing that Demonology class had drilled into him—anonymity. He turns to find Castiel standing close behind him, waiting, still wrapped in whoever’s trench coat had been handy in the exam room. With him standing barely an inch away, Dean can feel heat and magic radiating off him. He licks his suddenly dry lips, looking down at Castiel’s bare legs.</p><p>“Uh, Cas? Personal space.” He grabs Castiel’s shoulder and pushes until the demon steps back.</p><p>“My apologies.”</p><p>Dean shakes off the sudden wave of heat rolling over his skin, hoping he’s not blushing. He focuses on the job at hand—getting out of the school without Castiel looking like a demon. He doesn’t have much choice but to let the guy walk out to the parking lot with his legs and feet bare, but he can at least give him an illusion to work with. He mutters, “Stand still.” Drawing Earth energy up through himself from the ground, he forms the illusion of a pair of jeans and dark running shoes to cover the demon’s lower half. It may not look great to anyone closely inspecting the illusion, but it should hold until they get to the car. </p><p>“Have you, uh...been on Earth before?” he asks, suddenly nervous about actually speaking to the guy. He really has no idea what to expect. </p><p>Castiel simply says “No,” looking down at his legs with interest. </p><p>“We need to keep a low profile around here, okay? Can’t have non-magical people seeing us. So if you could just…make your eyes a little more…?” Dean trails off, pointing to his own eyes. Dean can create an illusion of clothes with no problem, but changing the appearance of a face? That’s much better handled by Demonic magic. </p><p>Castiel nods, raising his long-fingered hands to his face. Dean notices with alarm that each of his fingernails is long, and ends in a sharpened point, and all of them are painted black. Placing his palms over his eyes, Castiel draws his magic forth. Dean feels it as a stirring, that prickling sensation returning as magic rushes just behind a barrier of some sort, but it still sings along their new bond and sends a shiver over his skin. </p><p>When Castiel takes his hands away from his face, Dean’s jaw drops. Castiel’s eyes are now completely human-looking, except that they are the most vibrant shade of blue Dean has ever seen.</p><p>“Is this adequate?” Castiel rumbles, and Dean nods.</p><p>He clears his throat, finding it dry. The guy might have been stunning before, but now, with those eyes looking into his soul? “Adequate...sure,” he says, and hurriedly turns to leave the building.</p><p>They cross the grassy quad under the deep blue of the evening sky, the day bleeding out of it to the west. As he walks, Dean checks his phone to see a message from Charlie: "??"</p><p>He replies with the grimacing emoji, then adds, "See you soon. Good luck."</p><p>Charlie's exam is a half hour later than Dean's, so she'll probably still see the message before she goes in. The celebratory drinks are planned for eight o'clock, and Dean hopes they'll at least have something to celebrate. </p><p>As he reaches the parking lot, he stops in front of his pride and joy to run a hand over her hood. “I fucked up, baby,” he whispers, then turns to look back towards the school building. Castiel is standing close behind him once again, watching him expectantly.</p><p>That’s never not going to be jarring. The whole idea that this being is now tied to him for as long as his magic holds is so very wrong, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. Apparently he can’t even succeed at failing. Awesome.</p><p>“Get in,” he says, then opens the driver’s door, sliding in behind the wheel.</p><p>The demon stares at him through the windscreen, then in a blink, he’s inside the car, sitting on the bench seat next to Dean.</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” Dean mutters, flinching.</p><p>“No, Warlock, My name is Castiel,” the demon says, his unnerving new blue eyes still trained on Dean. </p><p>Dean rolls his eyes, then points at the demon to emphasize his point. “Okay, if we’re really gonna do this, you’re gonna call me Dean, okay?” The last thing Dean needs is a constant reminder of his impending job title. He starts up the car, her deep rumble of magic through her calming him a little.</p><p>“Very well, Dean.” The demon is looking around the car now, making Dean wonder if he’s ever seen one before. As the tape clicks into action in the tape deck and the sounds of <em>Zeppelin IV</em> start up, Castiel zeroes in on it, reaching out to touch the buttons on the stereo. </p><p>Dean pauses in his reversing to bat Castiel’s hand away from the stereo. “Uh, no. Driver picks the music, dude.”  </p><p>Castiel doesn’t reply, just goes back to watching Dean intently as he self-consciously reverses out of the car park, then drives out to the main road. At some point Dean stops feeling the prickle on the back of his neck that means the demon is watching him, and when he glances over, the guy is staring intently out the windscreen at the passing cars and buildings. </p><p>He isn’t really sure what he’d been expecting from a demon—well, he hadn’t been expecting one at all, today—but this one, this very human-looking incubus, was certainly not it. Bobby’s hellhound is kind of a big ol’ sweetie, despite the occasional hellfire fart. Imps, mandragoras, and infernals are almost as common, but the more powerful of the demon species such as incubi, succubi, sirens, and ifrit are rare. Dean’s only learned about them in his Demonology classes, never seen one in the flesh.</p><p>Demons are common enough around Lawrence, for magical folks who know where to look for them. They blend easily, for the most part, or know to hide themselves, catching on the edges of vision only. </p><p>Dean’s been around demons all his life, so he’s well aware they’re around—the hellhounds walking with their warlocks, infernals lurking in corners, tiny imps that can actually phase out of sight and pop back when called. As part of the Demon Accords, signed many hundreds of years ago, warlocks summon demons to Earth from their alternative universe, called Demonside, and bind them here. The Accords allow a sharing of magic—Demonic magic that is used on living things, for medical purposes and to encourage crops to grow, and Earth magic that can only be used on inanimate objects—rocks, metals—or to create illusions, like the one Dean cast to give Castiel pants.</p><p>It all happened long enough ago that no one is quite sure how either a warlock or demon first traveled to the other realm and worked out they could both benefit from sharing their magic, but nowadays, warlocks are trained to summon and cast with demons to create enchanted objects for use on Earth. Being a qualified warlock with the ability to summon and cast with a demon gives him a guaranteed job out of college.</p><p>Trouble is, Dean doesn’t want to be one. Even when John Winchester, once among the most powerful warlocks in the city, is counting on him to climb the hierarchy and reach the heights he, himself, fell from. </p><p>Dean frowns as he thinks of his father, of the broken shell of a man he became after Dean and Sam’s mother died. Dean had tried, had studied hard to please him, but his dad has always pushed him harder, expected more of him. And once he’d started at the school of Demonology and got a taste of the life waiting for him at the Grove, casting in a lab most of the day to power the city with demonic energy, he no longer wanted anything to do with it. Still doesn’t, even with the specimen sitting beside him.</p><p>He casts a quick glance at the demon, his attractive profile barely visible now in the twilight. The guy’s a brickhouse stud, that’s for sure. </p><p>Despite never having seen an incubus before, Dean knows a thing or two about them. Naturally, incubi and succubi had been hot topics in his younger schooling—what teenage boy hadn’t looked up sex demons in as many textbooks as they had in the library? From what he can remember of that hormone-fueled research, they mostly live in busy cities and feed on humans by seducing them. The urban myths told of people being fucked to death, which hadn't seemed like such a bad way to go to a sixteen-year-old kid. The more modern knowledge now says that they merely feed until sated, though.</p><p>What Dean remembers most clearly is that the demons are able to change form between succubus and incubus to suit the person they are feeding from—their gender-fluidity an idea that Dean had always found fascinating. While he was happy enough in his birth gender, he’d discovered as he went through his college years that his attraction to both guys and girls wasn’t just a demon thing. </p><p>In fact, if he wasn’t a demon freshly bound to him, this Castiel would be pressing all of Dean’s tall, dark and handsome buttons. However he’d ended up in this form, it was certainly very attractive. All part of the incubus charm, Dean’s sure. </p><p>The fact that he <em>has</em> actually bound one to him, though, is kind of terrifying. To graduate, he now has three days to properly bind their magic—to learn how to cast together to store demonic energy in a battery. After that, he’ll be allowed to graduate. So, his brain ticks over logically, his aim for failing has now shifted to the second part of the exam. He just has to fail that, then the demon will go back from whence it came and he’ll be free of the job at the Grove.</p><p>In the meantime, he’s stuck with the demon for three days. He has no idea how he’s going to keep this thing fed—it’s an incubus, and a male-presenting one. Is he now going to have to go out to bars to be the demon’s wingman, letting him pick up unsuspecting chicks? How often does he need to feed, anyway? He supposes he’ll find out sooner or later.</p><p>A short time later, he’s parking at his apartment complex and ushering the demon out of the car. They ride the elevator up to the third floor and get inside Dean’s apartment, all the while with Castiel standing awkwardly near Dean, staring at him. </p><p>Dean dumps his keys on the kitchen bench, followed by his laptop bag. What now? He has no idea how to even approach a conversation. Will he ever stop staring at Dean like that?</p><p>“So…you're an incubus, huh?” Dean says, then curses internally at the dumb opening. “I’ll admit, I was hoping to come home without a demon at all, so I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to do with you when you're not, uh…helping me with magic.”</p><p>The demon continues to eyeball him, his eyes now squinted and his head cocked to the side. He doesn’t move from where he stands near the door, even as Dean removes his jacket and throws it over the back of one of his dining chairs.</p><p>“Well, I mean, I kinda know the basics,” Dean adds, trying to defend himself. “But I’m not really interested in being a warlock, so if you wanna go back to Demonside or whatever, go ahead.”</p><p>The demon still doesn’t say anything, but at least he lifts his eyes from Dean to look around the apartment with a laser focus. Dean shakes his head. Turns out nothing he’d learned in Demonology has prepared him for what a demon might actually be like. He turns towards the fridge.</p><p>“Why?” </p><p>Dean looks back over his shoulder before his hand meets the fridge door, not sure if he just heard the growled word correctly. The demon looks annoyed as he continues staring towards the other end of Dean’s living room, but when Dean stops to look at him, he turns his black eyes on Dean, peering at him with a smouldering intensity that takes Dean’s breath away. The guy really is unbelievably hot, even while he’s still standing there wrapped only in a coat. </p><p>“I’m sorry?” he asks.</p><p>“Why are you not interested in having me around?” the demon repeats, and yep, he’s pissed. </p><p>Baffled, Dean turns back to the fridge, pulling two beers out and shutting the door again as he talks. “Hey, I never said I wasn’t interested in you. I mean,” he adds, a little flustered at being caught out. “We only just met, and uh…” He trails off as the demon raises one eyebrow, causing Dean’s heart to lurch around in his chest some more. This is so, so unfair. He edges his way around the island bench. “What I mean is, my dad was a warlock, and he expects me to be as well. But it’s not what I want to do.” He holds the second beer out towards the demon. “Beer?” </p><p>The demon eyes the beer, before he flicks his gaze back up to Dean’s. “I do not require human food or drink.”</p><p>“Right, right,” Dean says, placing the extra beer on the counter behind him. “You just need, uh…to feed, right? How often exactly do you need to do that? ‘Cause, I mean, I’m about to head downtown to meet up with some friends, so if you wanted to find someone—”</p><p>“That won’t be necessary,” the demon growls, stepping forward. </p><p>Dean finds himself spun around and crowded up against the wall next to the apartment door, the demon’s hard body pressing against his from knee to shoulder. Castiel moves his face close to Dean’s neck, inhaling him like he's apple pie, and Dean’s a little alarmed by how hot he finds being manhandled like this. “Whoa, whoa, dude,” he says, lifting his free hand to push against the demon’s rather solid chest. “I’m friendly, not food. Besides, I thought incubi were...y’know...into women?”</p><p>“I am indifferent to sexual orientation or presentation,” Castiel says, his voice a low growl. “All I need you to do is climax. Can you do that for me, Dean?”</p><p>“Hell, yes,” he chokes out, then, realizing what he's said, adds, “wait, I mean, no!” He slides out of the demon’s grip to one side, taking a step back as he tries to get his bearings through the haze in his vision. The demon’s scent is intoxicating—like a cool breeze after a storm. Is he <em>producing</em> that smell? </p><p>All through his college years, he's been fine with being an unattached drifter, picking up girls and sucking the odd cock in the student bars across Lawrence. But is he really ready to jump into bed with a demon? A really hot demon, but still, a non-human? </p><p>The answer comes to him quickly: Yes, of course he is. No, no, he needs to get a grip. </p><p>“Dude,” he tries again, stepping away to put his beer bottle on the edge of the small dining table then raising his hands in front of him, palms out, “we literally just met. I’m not just gonna jump into bed with you.”</p><p>“Why not? You find this form attractive, do you not?” the demon growls, taking a step towards him as he backs across the room.</p><p>Dean stares at him, “This form? This...isn’t what you usually look like?”</p><p>“No, of course not. Your preferences are clear.”</p><p>“My <em>preferences</em>? You can see that, huh?” Dean says, rattled. He walks across the room away from him, trying to remember whether mind-reading is also an incubus power. He turns back to look at the demon. “You chose this form for me?”</p><p>The demon nods once, his gaze hungry. “Unbound, I might walk this realm, feeding on any bright soul. Our days of walking the Earth freely are long gone, though. If I’m to be bound…I cannot do anything without your permission.”</p><p>They stare at each other for a few moments, at an impasse.</p><p>“What happens if you don’t...if you don’t feed?”</p><p>“I’ll fade. Even before I get a chance to complete my mission.” He moves forward towards Dean again, adding, “My magic is weakened from crossing between worlds.”</p><p>Dean eyes him as he approaches, caught in the deep rumble of the demon’s voice. His magic certainly doesn’t feel weak. Dean’s own magic simmers with the demon’s approach, shuffling like iron filings towards a magnet.</p><p>“I won’t force you. I can’t. But will you help me, Dean?” He reaches out, heat radiating from his hand as it hovers near Dean’s jaw, not quite touching him.</p><p>The way his name sounds on the demon’s tongue sends a shiver down Dean’s spine. There’s no doubt this guy is exactly his type—tall, dark, devastatingly handsome. Couldn’t he really just…make the most of this? There’s gotta be some perks to this warlock bullshit, hasn’t there? He didn't mean to summon an incubus, but now that he has, he needs to take care of it, right? Three days until the exam, then he’ll never see him again.</p><p>The room starts to spin around Dean. There’s magic surrounding him—he can feel the demon’s magic rising, and his own roaring to life in reply, burning inside his chest. He tries to take a breath, feeling like he might pass out if he doesn’t get air inside him, but the demon’s beautiful face is coming closer, stealing his resolve to back out again. He chokes out a small, “Okay—oof.” His breath leaves him as Castiel shoves him back against the wall again, grinding their hips together as leans forward to claim Dean’s mouth.</p><p>The kiss is scorching, the demon’s lips hot against Dean’s as they glide together, then they abruptly leave him as Castiel latches onto the skin just under Dean’s jaw and sucks, making Dean's eyes roll back in his head. Yeah, this is fine. Nothing wrong with taking advantage of his demon-summoning talent, right? Demon's gotta eat, after all. Dean’s rapidly getting on board—perhaps he has been all along.</p><p>Castiel licks a flat tongue up Dean's neck and tries nipping at his ear with sharp teeth, until it tickles enough that Dean abruptly pushes Castiel back with a hand to his chest.</p><p>Dean takes in the hungry look on the demon's face. He groans, crushing their mouths together in another bruising kiss. Castiel runs a scorching hot tongue across Dean's mouth, and he opens to let the demon in, his tongue brushing Dean's like hellfire, but tasting sweet. </p><p>Castiel abruptly grabs Dean around the hips and lifts him, his strength surprising Dean, who throws his legs hurriedly around him. The action crushes their crotches together, and Dean is suddenly aware of the hard bulge under the trench coat, forcing out a startled groan. Castiel turns, carrying Dean back over to the three-seater couch, where he dumps Dean on his back and goes to work trying to undo his belt. All Dean can do is lie back and watch as Castiel grins, victorious, pulling Dean's button undone and his zipper down. </p><p>Castiel drops his face into the soft cotton stretching over Dean's cock, inhaling deeply again. Dean knows on some level he should find this disturbing, but at the moment all he knows is that a very attractive man who smells like a summer storm is rubbing his face all over his mostly-hard cock. Who is he to protest?</p><p>The demon mouths at Dean’s boxer briefs, biting at Dean’s hardening flesh underneath until Castiel finally gets his long fingers under Dean’s waistband and pulls. Dean tries to shift his hips to help, but he needn’t have worried—the demon drags both his jeans and his briefs down to his knees, lifting his butt and freeing his cock to bob obscenely in front of him. Dean might find the whole thing embarrassingly hilarious if the manhandling wasn’t also so freaking hot. </p><p>Castiel lets out what Dean is sure is some sort of growl, before he opens his mouth and swallows Dean down to the hilt, his nose buried in wiry curls.</p><p>Dean lets out a yelp—if he’d thought Castiel’s mouth was scorching before, it’s nothing compared to the searing heat that envelopes him now. Bordering on painful, Dean nearly tries to jerk backwards before a soothing brush of magic flows into him. He’s not sure if he’s gonna end up with some kind of charred mess where his dick used to be after this, but now it feels less like he’s being burnt, and more freaking amazing. He gasps as Castiel moves back and forth, taking Dean further into his throat with a swallow, and as the demon lets out a rumbling hum, Dean can’t help but let his eyes roll back in his head as he slumps back on the couch cushions. </p><p>Dean may have been sucked off a few times before, but there’s something about the demon’s energy that adds an extra dimension to this. Fire races along his skin, and while his own magic rushes forth to quench it, he’s nearly overwhelmed with the feeling that his whole body is about to go up in flames. When he opens his eyes again there are no flames, though, and he glances down to see the demon looking up at him, his mouth stuffed full of Dean’s cock and a glow about him, like he’s the one haloed with bright fire instead of Dean.</p><p>His release comes rushing to meet him, and he tries to pull back. “Cas? Cas, I’m…I’m gonna—” he gasps out, but Castiel merely holds him effortlessly in place, keeping his rhythm steady. Dean throws his head back once more and cries out as he comes hard into Castiel’s throat, the flames licking once again at his body. His vision whites out. If this is to be the end, he thinks, what a way to go.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Dean floats in darkness, his charred limbs crumbling into ash as he watches, pieces of himself drifting away on a gentle breeze. He doesn’t mind—he can’t seem to get a win lately. School, his love-life, the job at Bobby’s, all the elements of his fucked up life melt away with a lingering harsh taste, and he welcomes the peace.  </em>
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  <em>Something flutters in his peripheral vision, though. A tan coat, a flash of heat, a deep voice calling his name...</em>
</p><p>Dean surfaces from the dream with a start. He opens his eyes groggily, lifting his head from where it’s buried in his pillow. He’s in his bed, bright sunlight streaming through a crack in his curtains. </p><p>Dropping his head back into the pillow, he wonders what the hell he drank last night to give him a dream like that. Memories surface slowly...a demon, sucking his brain out through his dick, fire consuming him until there’s nothing left but a charred husk…</p><p>Something shifts in his room, and suddenly he’s wide awake. He turns his head with a jerk.</p><p>Castiel is sitting on a kitchen chair beside Dean’s bed, staring at him with a soft expression Dean hasn’t seen on him before. </p><p>Not a dream, then. </p><p>“Cas?” Dean asks, rolling over to prop himself up on his elbow, rubbing at his face with the other hand. “Were you watching me sleep?”</p><p>Castiel nods once, his face serious.</p><p>“Kinda creepy, dude,” Dean says as he covers a yawn. He rubs at his forehead again, trying to dislodge a headache that has a tight hold just behind his eyes. He isn’t sure he wants to make eye contact with Castiel—last night had been pretty amazing, not to mention hot as hell, but he feels slightly dirty, like Castiel might have put some spell on him, like he may have been taken advantage of. </p><p>He sits up a little more, leaning back on the headboard after picking up his phone. Several messages, one of which is from Sam, saying only “Well?” He’d have to call the big moose at some point. God, he wasn’t looking forward to that at all. The rest are from Charlie. Fuck, he was supposed to meet her downtown for drinks last night! He’ll have to call her, too, and do some groveling.</p><p>When he drops the phone again and lets his gaze travel up to the demon, he realizes the guy’s sitting there, still only covered by the tan trench coat. His bare knees are visible next to the bed, and he swallows hard as he imagines what’s no doubt hiding underneath the coat above them.</p><p>“You can help yourself to my closet, if you want. I’m sure something’ll fit.”</p><p>Castiel nods. “Thank you, Dean.”</p><p>“What happened, uh...last night?” Dean has to admit he’s slightly worried by the fact that he doesn’t remember anything after the most mind-blowing orgasm he’s ever had, but the fact that he’s still wearing the shirt from last night and his boxer briefs seems to suggest the demon hadn’t gone further. “Did I really just pass out after...afterwards?”</p><p>Castiel nods again. “The first time can be overwhelming. I brought you in here—I hope that was acceptable.”</p><p>Dean snorts out a laugh. “Hardly my first time, but sure.” He adds in a muttered tone, “Fuck, that’s embarassing.”</p><p>“What is?” Castiel asks, his face curious again. </p><p>Dean’s sure his face must be bright red, the way it feels so warm. He looks down, avoiding the demon’s dark gaze. “You carried me in here like a little kid?” He glances up to see Castiel frowning as he nods. “Well, thanks, I guess.”</p><p>“It’s my duty to care for you, Warlock,” Castiel says, his focus never wavering from Dean’s face. </p><p>Dean chuckles nervously. “Just Dean, remember?”</p><p>The demon growls, “Yes, Dean.”</p><p>Damn, that sound sends a shot of arousal right through him. He stares up at the demon, wondering again how the hell he got himself into this. The first part of the exam might be over and successful, but the second part is on Monday. In theory, he knows how to pass it—he just needs to be able to draw Castiel’s magic into a battery. He’s done it before in prac classes, moving energy from one object to another.</p><p>But then...this is his last chance to fail out. He could just purposely not actually pass this part. It’ll look weird, considering how he got through the summoning part, but the alternatives are actually passing and going ahead with working at the Grove, or actually confessing the fact that he doesn’t want to be a warlock to his dad. He shies away from that option, pretty sure his dad would have some very choice words to say about carrying on the family business.</p><p>No, he needs to fail this. He takes in the way Castiel is watching him, his black eyes still hungry. It’s in the demon’s best interest for Dean to pass his exam as well, so that he can get all charged up with Earth energy, plus whatever this message is that he needs to deliver. Dean feels bad for ruining his plans, but maybe he can be bound to someone else? </p><p>Castiel cocks his head to the side. “Do you need something? Sustenance? Or would you like to prepare for the next ritual? There’s one more, isn’t there?”</p><p>Dean’s eyes roam down the slightly open edges of the trench coat, the way it’s only barely covering what’s underneath and allowing a tantalizing slice of thigh to be visible. Maybe it's not just him who can be taken advantage of...perhaps he can distract the demon long enough for him to forget the ritual. It’s what incubi do, after all. </p><p>“Yes,” he says, then lets his gaze slowly travel up again, his lip caught between his teeth, “but I can think of a few other things I’d rather do.”</p><p>Castiel’s eyebrow quirks, and he leans forward. “Indeed?” At Dean’s nod, he climbs forward onto the bed, the tie around his middle coming loose and allowing the sides of the coat to fall open. Dean’s eyes are drawn to the flash of smooth chest and stomach that’s exposed, plus what lies further south, and he catches his breath. Castiel plants a hand either side of Dean’s thighs, then leans forwards until their lips meet once again, the heat of Castiel’s mouth muted this time. His tongue is still scorching as he licks into Dean’s mouth, but he pulls away too soon, leaving Dean gasping. </p><p>Castiel backs away down Dean’s body until he starts to lift the hem of Dean’s shirt, dropping his face to kiss and lick at Dean’s skin across one hip where it’s now exposed. </p><p>Dean’s head whirls with confusion, even as he’s pleased the demon is so easily riled up. On one hand, Castiel is everything he enjoys in a partner—attentive, generous, extremely talented at tongue gymnastics—but surely taking advantage of a demon that he summoned here and bound to himself counts as some kind of exploitation that he’s not sure he should be on board with. Even if Castiel shows no sign of being less than completely into this, as he works his way up Dean’s body, eventually helping him to remove the shirt as he straddles Dean’s hips. </p><p>Now he gets his first good look at Castiel’s lean body, his skin smooth and as human-looking as any other person Dean’s been with. In fact if it wasn’t for his eyes—those glossy, black eyes staring down at him—anyone would mistake him for a human. A human with a gigantic, rock-hard cock, Dean mentally adds, sure he must be gaping as he takes in what else has now been revealed by the demon’s flasher coat.</p><p>Castiel sits upright, then grinds his bare ass down into Dean’s already hard length, making him gasp out, “Holy shit, Cas. You don’t mess around, do you?”</p><p>The demon stops his movement and tilts his head, his forehead creasing slightly. “Should I stop? Are you not enjoying this?”</p><p>“No, don’t stop,” Dean gasps, his hands finally finding a grip in the coat near Castiel’s hips, and pulling Castiel down onto him. “I’m all for a little morning glory.”</p><p>Castiel raises one eyebrow in a questioning way, and oh... If he keeps doing that, Dean’s gonna be on board with whatever the demon wants to do. He shuffles down Dean’s legs, then grips Dean under his knees and pulls him down the bed, pulling a surprised gasp from Dean. His dick is tenting his boxers now, and Castiel homes in on it, pulling it free from the fabric and pumping it a few times, his sharp, black fingernails gleaming wickedly as they move up and down. </p><p>Dean is sure he’s about to get another mind-blowing blow job, but Castiel reaches over to the nightstand, where Dean’s bottle of lube still sits from a few nights ago. He squirts a generous amount onto his hand, then shuffles forwards until his own cock is lined up with Dean’s, wrapping his big hand around both of them. He sighs with contentment as he begins stroking both of them.</p><p>Dean closes his eyes and bites his lip, trying to keep a filthy moan in, but Castiel reaches out and pulls Dean’s bitten lip free with the pad of his thumb. </p><p>“Let me hear you, Dean,” he rumbles. “May I ride you?”</p><p>Dean blinks up at him, the abrupt proposition taking him by surprise. This sex god wants to…wants him to... He swallows down the panic threatening to rise up his throat. “Uh, I’ve kind of...never really…” </p><p>A brief flash of surprise crosses the demon’s face, then he says, “Do not worry about your inexperience, I’ll go slowly. Or we can just...keep doing this?” He continues the movement of his hand on both of their lengths.</p><p>Dean gasps, trying to think over the pleasurable sensation. He wants...he wants it. He always wondered what it would be like, and now’s the perfect opportunity, isn’t it? With an actual sex demon, who happens to be the freaking hottest person he’s ever been with?</p><p>“Okay,” he pants out, flailing his arm around to the side to try to find the lube again. “Okay, okay. What do I need to—?” </p><p>He cuts off as Castiel leans down to kiss him, his darkened gaze never leaving Dean’s face as he straightens back up and grabs Dean’s arm to stop him looking for the lube. “No need for that,” he murmurs, moving Dean’s hand back to his hip under the side of his coat. He moves forward over Dean, lining Dean’s cock up and sinking down.</p><p>The tight heat of him is overwhelming, sending waves of sensation over Dean, along with a tight feeling in his core. Cas’ hole is tight, but wet and hot as hell, as he slides up again and down in one smooth motion. Dean gasps as Cas pauses fully seated, grinding his ass down into Dean and making his own cock bob in front of him. Dean grabs it in one fist, holding on for dear life as Cas begins rocking up and down, forward and back in a rhythm, his head thrown back and his beautiful throat bared to Dean. </p><p>The feeling overwhelms Dean, building up quickly and crashing down on him in a wave, whiting out his vision and pulling a strangled cry from his throat.</p><p>This time when Dean comes, Cas leans down and kisses him through it, the heat of his mouth sweet as fire consumes him all over again. Magic is flowing into him, out of him. Swirling around inside of him and between them. This time he doesn’t pass out, despite lying in bed bonelessly. </p><p>Instead, Dean drifts, warm, comfortable. </p><p><em>This is nice</em>. No stress, no responsibilities, just relaxing in strong, warm arms. </p><p>He lets his worries about the future float away, and sinks back into sleep.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Dean jerks awake, opening his eyes to a blurry image of a bare chest. He lifts his head, wiping a sticky string of drool away from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes roam—a chiseled jaw, dusted with stubble. A warm, tiny smile, barely there. Entirely black eyes. </p><p><em>Castiel</em>. </p><p>“Hello, Dean,” Castiel rumbles, and Dean feels it vibrate in his chest, all the way to his toes. Castiel is buzzing with power, practically glowing with the intensity of it. </p><p>“Hey, sunshine,” he murmurs, not sure what's happening but equally as unsure whether he wants it to stop. “Sorry, not sure what happened. Was I out for long?” He's clean, at least, although they're both still naked. </p><p>As Dean becomes aware of Castiel's smooth skin beneath him, of the way Cas’ fingers are working their way through his hair, scratching across his scalp. As they move down behind his head, a shiver runs down his spine as he feels all tension drain out of him, replaced by a definitely interested twitch of his dick. </p><p>He just…he smells so good, and the memory of what they'd done earlier that morning, as well as his plans for distracting the demon, has him groaning slightly before he's even aware of it. He trails a hand down Castiel’s smooth chest, heading for further down, but the demon moves his hand away. </p><p>“Stop, Dean. You need rest now.” He pulls the sheet up to Dean’s chin and shuffles out of bed, giving Dean a full view of his perfect ass as he bends down to retrieve something from the floor. At Dean’s appreciative hum, he turns to give the tiniest smirk, then pulls the trench coat back over his shoulders and sweeps out of view. </p><p>Dean can’t bring himself to move—he’s cool and comfortable, and although he’s aware that his magical energy is also low, he can’t bring himself to care. He drifts once more.</p><p>Castiel appears later, and Dean rouses himself as he sees the guy has helped himself to Dean’s wardrobe after all. For some reason he’s picked a navy suit with a white dress shirt underneath, with Dean’s blue tie, and the trench coat over the top to complete the tax accountant ensemble. It’s an odd picture, for sure, but he seems to pull it off well, like it suits him, somehow. Dean doubts anything the demon wears wouldn’t suit him, but he doesn’t say as much.</p><p>“Clothes look like they fit okay,” Dean remarks instead as he sits up in bed, reaching for his pair of boxers still lying discarded on the edge of the bed nearby. “Little big, maybe.”</p><p>Castiel looks down at the suit, then back up, his face showing a hint of uncertainty. “They are adequate. Demons have no need for such fabric coverings—”</p><p>“They’re fine, Cas,” Dean interrupts, grinning. “I just wasn’t expecting you to go all…Constantine on me.” </p><p>Castiel narrows his eyes. “I don’t understand that reference,” he rumbles.</p><p>Dean shakes his head, his grin falling away. “Never mind. I’m just gonna take a shower.”</p><p>He hurries into the bathroom. If someone had told him he would be fucking a sex demon hours after one of his final exams he would have laughed and laughed, and yet, here he is, getting chubbed up again thinking of the way Castiel had looked sitting above him, his hair all awry, how he’d taken Dean apart so thoroughly. </p><p>It had been intoxicating, and way better than any night he’d shared with...well, anyone.</p><p>Still, not where he thought he’d be today. Sam is still gonna kill him. He leans his head on the shower tiles, letting the hot water run down his back. What the hell is he gonna say to his brother? Or his dad, for that matter. One crisis at a time, though.</p><p>When he leaves the bathroom, towel carefully wrapped around his middle, Castiel is sitting still on the couch. His eyes follow Dean as he hurries to his bedroom to get dressed, but thankfully he doesn’t physically move after him—Dean isn’t sure he can actually turn the demon down if he tries anything at this point, he just doesn’t have the energy. Dean grabs a fresh t-shirt and jeans and returns to the living room, a buzz of magic running across his skin as Cas’ black gaze lands on him again. How’s he ever gonna get used to those eyes? </p><p>Grabbing his phone, he moves to the sliding door leading to the small balcony and collapses into the chair next to the tiny table he keeps out here. He dials his brother and waits, picking at the scuffed lacquer on the edge of the table.</p><p>“How’d it go?” Sam asks as soon as the call connects. “You’re outta there, right?”</p><p>“Actually…” Dean begins, then trails off, not really sure how to explain things.</p><p>“Actually...what?” Sam prompts. “Dean, what did you do?”</p><p>Dean sighs. There’s no point hiding it—Sam will find out sooner or later. “I summoned a demon.” </p><p>“You—I thought you said you were gonna purposefully fail?” Sam sounds incredulous, and Dean doesn’t really blame him. “What, did you accidentally say the right words or something?” </p><p>“Kinda? Look, I really don’t know what happened, it shouldn’t have worked, but, well...here I am. I mean, here he is.” He turns to glance at Castiel through the glass sliding door, flinching when the demon is staring back at him with those unnerving black eyes. </p><p>“What did you summon, some kind of infernal?”</p><p>Dean hesitates. He really is never gonna hear the end of this. He lets out his breath on a long sigh. “He’s a freaking incubus, okay?”</p><p>He hears Sam huff out a laugh, then he pauses before adding, “Oh, you’re serious? Jesus, Dean, you didn’t sleep with him, did you?”</p><p>Dean freezes for a moment. “Uh, no, of course not! Why the hell would I do something like that?”</p><p>“Oh my god, you did, didn’t you? Your bond is probably rock solid now, Dean. He’s feeding on you.”</p><p>Dean looks around at Cas again. The demon has turned his attention to the TV, watching the screen with a curious intensity that Dean can’t help but find endearing. He turns his attention back to Sam. “I knew he was feeding on me, but...I dunno, maybe I don’t want to get rid of him just yet. Guy’s good, y’know?”</p><p>“Ew, no, I really don’t want to know any details.” Dean chuckles, but they’re both quiet for a few moments, before Sam adds, “So...what? You’ve just gotta be a warlock now? Work at the labs?”</p><p>It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d admitted to Sam that he really wasn’t interested in Dad’s plan for him. He’d planned to get out of telling his dad about his lack of interest in it by failing to become a warlock, and he hadn’t even managed to get that right. </p><p>The worst part about this whole shitshow is that he doesn’t even know what it is he wants to do with his life, outside of continuing to work with cars at Bobby’s mechanic shop—his part time job to help him pay the rent on this place. He’d been kinda hoping to have some idea of that before breaking the news to his dad, but so far, nada. He might love cars, and especially the magical engines that use demon batteries to run, but does he want to do that for the rest of his life?</p><p>Dean sighs. “I dunno, Sam. I mean, the Grove isn’t a terrible option, career-wise. Turns out I’m actually pretty good at this warlocking stuff. It’s secure, reliable. Maybe it’s not the end of the world.”</p><p>Sam says quietly, “You deserve to have the life you want, Dean. Not what Dad wants you to do.” </p><p>He doesn’t deserve his wise little brother, that’s for sure. “Yeah, whatever,” he says, letting his head fall back against the glass door behind him. “Maybe I can still fuck up the final part of the exam and get out of this.” He stifles a huge yawn.</p><p>“Sorry, did your demon keep you up all night?” Sam asks dryly. </p><p>Dean huffs. “Shut up. ‘M just tired, is all.”</p><p>They talk for a little longer, Sam telling him about the end of his first year at Stanford. The kid had wanted to get into Law for years now, and with Dean the objective of their father’s aspirations, Sam was free to apply for scholarships wherever he wanted to. And a full ride to Stanford was more than any of them had been expecting. Dean misses him fiercely.</p><p>After Dean hangs up, he covers another huge yawn that creeps up on him. </p><p>He lets his eyes focus on Castiel, now standing outside on the balcony, just outside the glass door. </p><p>Dean startles, sitting up straight in his chair. He hadn't even heard the door open. He mutters, “I need to put some kind of bell on you.” </p><p>Castiel tilts his head curiously, but stays silent.</p><p>“Something I can help you with, Cas?” Dean asks, getting to his feet. His head aches, and he steps carefully past Castiel, heading back inside to find some painkillers. </p><p>Castiel follows Dean into the kitchen, where he swallows two acetaminophen tablets as the demon speaks. “You told whoever you were speaking to just now that you didn’t want to pass your test and become a warlock. Why don’t you?”</p><p>Dean raises an eyebrow at the question. Had he said that to Sam? Not exactly, but the demon can probably read between the lines. He slumps against the counter, lifting his hands to rub at his face. “I dunno, Cas, I used to want to. My dad was one of the top warlocks at the Grove, one of the directors—the guys you want to pass your message to. When my mom died, I was just a little kid and my brother was a baby. My dad kinda went off the rails, started drinking and using dark magic to fuck stuff up. He was banned from summoning demons and fired from the Grove.” </p><p>He shakes his head. His memories are dim of that time, but what came after is still painfully fresh. Thank God Uncle Bobby stepped in when he did, got John to rehab. “He was a mess for a long time, but he’s kind of better now. Sam and I have put ourselves through school—he’s at a big university in California, now. But Dad’s still always wanted me to work for the Grove.”</p><p>A memory surfaces, his dad casting rituals and making Dean watch, asking him over and over to repeat small incantations to teach him to pull Earth magic. John had driven him hard, and it has paid off throughout Dean’s school life.</p><p>Castiel nods thoughtfully. “In Demonside, we do not know of this ‘Grove’. It’s a warlock organization?”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s the company.” Dean brushes past Castiel again as he walks into the living room, sitting on one end of the couch. He bends his leg and tucks his foot under his other knee so he can look at Castiel as he sits next to him. “The Grove warlocks summon demons, and cast with them to fill the batteries and stuff.” Maybe he can talk Cas into more sex, rather than have to actually practice for the ritual. He reaches an arm along the back of the couch, gently playing with the curls of hair at the back of Cas’ neck as he speaks. “The Grove makes batteries for warlocks all over the country.”</p><p>Castiel doesn’t reply for a moment, then he gives a small sigh. “We have much to learn, it seems.” He turns his face to look out the glass balcony door at the afternoon sky as he speaks. “Dean, I need to be clean with you.”</p><p>Dean blinks at him, withdrawing his hand. “You need to...sorry, what?”</p><p>Castiel turns back to regard Dean, his voice rumbling somewhere in Dean’s spine. “I haven’t been entirely truthful.”</p><p>“Oh, right...come clean, Cas. You need to come clean. And okay, what’s wrong?”</p><p>Castiel glances away again, distress plain on his face. “You did not summon me to this realm.”<br/>Dean frowns. “Wait.” He points a thumb to his own chest. “I <em>did</em> summon you...that was the whole point of the exam. I had to summon a demon to pass the first stage, and I did.”</p><p>Castiel grimaces. “No, you didn’t. I’ve been watching this realm, waiting for a warlock who might help me. It’s not easy to see through the veil, but I saw you—saw your bright soul, your strong magic. So I manifested in your summoning circle—you looked like you needed a little help.”</p><p>“You…” Dean huffs his surprise. “Well, that’s just freaking perfect. I knew that summoning should never have worked.”</p><p>Cas continues earnestly. “Your binding was perfect, though. Dean, you’re still a gifted warlock—I’d suspected before, but your binding is…quite thorough.”</p><p>Dean can feel heat in his cheeks at the compliment. He knows the binding is strong—he can feel the undercurrent of Cas’ magic, can feel the tug and flow between both of them. Even if he never wanted to be a warlock and use Demonic magic on a regular basis, the taste and feel of it now is incredible. </p><p>Even so, he’d been so close to actually failing and getting away from all this, if not for this demon and his problems. The idea leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, although something else is pushing at the edge of his mind. Cas had come here on his own, rather than through Dean’s badly cast spell. <em>What for?</em> </p><p>“So what, now you’re here, you want me to release you from the binding? Is that it? Why the hell did you bother manifesting in my summoning exam if you could just do it yourself anyway?”</p><p>“Because,” Cas says firmly, still looking uncomfortable, “I need your help. The magic in Demonside is disappearing. Warlocks are taking too much, pulling too many of my kind through to this realm.” Cas sits forward, looking more animated than Dean has seen in him so far. “I was sent through to speak to the warlock leaders about this. I couldn’t come through alone—to stay in this realm and speak to them, I need to be bound to a warlock. You are powerful, your soul is bright and your magic pure.”</p><p>Well, that was debatable. Dean stares at him, struggling to get his thoughts in order. “So you’re telling me,” he says quietly, but with a rising anger in his chest, “that while I was busy trying to not become a warlock, <em>you</em> decided I should pass, after all? Thanks a lot for that, buddy.” </p><p>“You’re welcome,” Castiel replied, confusion plain on his features. “But Dean, life is not set in stone. I have lived for a long time, and I never knew my own father. You said you do not agree with your father’s course for you, so why did you go ahead with your final exams if you did not want to follow it?”</p><p>Dean returns his gaze for a few moments, not sure how to respond to that. He snaps, “I was trying to fail! Perhaps if other people would stop making choices for me, I’ll do better with that.” </p><p>Hurt and anger cross the demon’s features, before his impassive mask slots back into place. He pulls his hand from Dean’s leg, and Dean abruptly gets to his feet. </p><p>“Gonna get some food,” he mutters, but before he takes more than one step, Castiel reaches out to grab his hand. </p><p>“Are we not supposed to be practicing our ritual casting for the second part of your exam?” he asks, his voice a low grumble.</p><p>Dean glares at him. “I’m not planning to pass that either,” he says, and stalks off, irritation warring with the exhaustion in his head. He shakes his head roughly, trying to jolt himself awake. Better make coffee as well as poptarts, or whatever else is left in the pantry.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Castiel actually leaves Dean alone that night, and most of the next day. Dean doesn’t push, letting him watch whatever he wants on TV. As for Dean, he scrolls aimlessly on his phone, complaining to Charlie now and then. He’d get out of the house, but all his friends are busy studying for their finals.</p><p>At least Charlie doesn’t seem overly pissed at him for missing their drinks on Friday night, especially once he fessed up to summoning an incubus. Charlie has summoned an infernal, a powerful fire demon, and Dean couldn’t be more proud. Her motivations for trying to get a job with the Grove aren’t entirely pure—she mostly wants to get in there so she can better hack their systems and get demon batteries to people in vulnerable situations, something Dean is one hundred percent on board with. She’s asked him to help many times, but he’s always told her he’d rather help from the sidelines.</p><p>Charlie seems excited for him, though. She even goes so far as to tell him to make the most of the great sex before he loses the demon, which makes him send back a gif of some guy giving the finger. He’s not sure why Castiel hasn’t tried his moves on him again. He assumes he’s still pissed with Dean after yesterday, although he’s not sure why Cas is even still hanging around. </p><p>Not that Dean hasn’t been tempted to get back into it...he can’t ignore how the demon affects him, even in his ridiculous suit and trench coat. But after their argument yesterday, he’s not sure how to approach Castiel again.</p><p>When he comes back to the dining table with a plate containing his last slice of pie, he notices Castiel watching him from where he sits on the couch. Why’s the guy always gotta stare at him like that? He asks, “What? Never seen apple pie before?”</p><p>Castiel narrows his eyes, his expression just on the hot side of murderous. “We should prepare for the exam.”</p><p>Dean huffs. “Told you I didn’t want to pass it.”</p><p>“I need you to pass it, though.” Castiel pauses, as though weighing his next words. “When I was younger, demons would travel to Earth, and return with such riches, their artifacts glowing with Earth energy. That magic has been used to work metal, to create tools and infrastructure for our society ever since the Accords were first made.”</p><p>“Yes, I took that history class,” Dean interrupts. “I know what you use Earth magic for.”</p><p>Castiel throws him a withering look. “Lately, more and more demons are accepting the summons to Earth, but they are returning before they have enough Earth magic to meet our needs. The system is unbalanced, Dean. My people suffer because too much of our own magic is being taken.”</p><p>Dean takes a bite of his pie, then another, pointedly not replying. What the hell can he do for a bunch of demons in another realm, anyway? </p><p>“I need to help them, Dean.” Castiel’s voice is hard, but it also betrays his frustration.</p><p>Dean swallows the last mouthful of pie before he answers. “So, what are you, specifically, doing here? You’re the chosen one?”</p><p>“Someone had to be sent, so I volunteered. I only want to restore the balance in magic, that’s all.”</p><p>Dean takes in the honesty in Castiel’s face, the determination. And also, the tiredness in how he’s slumped on the couch cushions. He puts his fork down on the empty plate, then stands, moving to sit beside Cas. “What will happen if the magic isn’t...balanced, or whatever?”</p><p>“I’m not certain. If it goes too far, we may no longer have the magic reserves to survive the summoning ritual. We may not even be able to heal ourselves. It’s...terrifying to consider what could happen.” Castiel drops his head, rubbing at his eyes in a curiously human way.</p><p>Dean should be able to feel Castiel’s magic radiating from him, sparking between them where he rests his hand on Cas’ forearm, even through the coat sleeves. Instead, the magic is muted, barely there. “Your magic is low—you need to feed, don’t you?” Dean rests his hand on Cas’ arm, running it lightly up his shoulder. It’s the first time he’s touched the demon since yesterday morning—the whole thing feels familiar, though, like it’s something he’s been craving. It’s good to be close to him again, though. The scent of summer thunderstorms soothes him.</p><p>Castiel shudders slightly, his gaze turning predatory, but he shuffles away slightly. “No, I’m fine, Dean. You don’t want me here, I don’t want to force you into—”</p><p>Dean leans into Castiel’s space, resting his hand on Cas’ face to turn it towards him. “Hey, you gotta eat. I’m not gonna say no to that.”</p><p>They look into each other’s eyes for a few moments, before Castiel makes a small noise in his throat and lunges forward to grab the back of Dean’s neck and pull him into a bruising kiss.</p><p>As their lips touch, Dean magic surges—he’s sure Castiel is doing something to make it flow, as he licks at his mouth as though he’s tasting it. Dean groans, letting Castiel grab him around the waist and pull him forward so that he’s sitting on Cas’ lap. He grips the hair at the back of the demon’s head as he kisses him, loving the way Cas growls at the tugging. </p><p>Castiel grips him tightly around the waist again, and with a sudden sensation of falling into complete black, Dean lands once again on Cas’ lap as he falls back against Dean’s mattress. </p><p>“Holy fucking…” Dean begins, staring around at his bedroom. “What just happened?”</p><p>“We flew,” Cas says, reaching up to push Dean’s flannel shirt off his shoulders. </p><p>Dean stares into the space behind Cas’ back as he struggles out of his shirts. If they flew, that means… “Wait, you have wings?”</p><p>Cas pauses in his attempt to get Dean undressed, looking annoyed by the interruption. “Yes, Dean. But they’re not visible in this plane. In Demonside...they’re quite impressive, I’ve been told.” He puffs out his chest a little, and Dean can’t help but laugh. Show-off demon. </p><p>“I’d like to see that,” he says, grinning. “I bet they’re all huge and white.” </p><p>Finally managing to get Dean’s t-shirt off over his head, Castiel leans in and murmurs in Dean’s ear, “They’re black, actually. Black as midnight, and covered in iridescent markings that flash like eyes in the sunlight.”</p><p>Dean flinches back, staring at Cas for a moment, before he starts to help Cas out of his coats. “Eyes, huh? Okay.” </p><p>“Yes. But to my people,” Castiel says softly, “to let another touch them is the highest intimacy, something only family...or courting couples do.”</p><p>Dean feels the weight of this statement like a heavy press on his chest. Is Cas actually just dirty talking here? It’s just...the words feel significant. He starts to undo the buttons of the white business shirt Cas wears under the suit jacket. “Would you let me touch them, Cas?”</p><p>Castiel doesn’t answer, but instead, after he’s free of the shirt, pushes Dean until he’s lying on his back on the bed. He methodically applies his mouth to Dean’s jaw, his neck, his shoulder, and onwards. Dean lets Castiel’s magic flow, enjoying his thunderstorm scent and his hot, talented lips and tongue as they explore his skin. He gasps as a scorching tongue licks over the crease of his hip, as deft fingers loosen his belt and jeans button. He gasps a second time as strong hands grab him and flip him over. He has to admit, the manhandling is freaking hot as fuck, but he still flinches when Cas yanks on his jeans, exposing his ass to the cool air. He doesn’t realize how clenched tight he is, until Cas places kisses all over his lower back, then moves down to a butt cheek. The tongue is next, driving him crazy with the tingling feeling over his hypersensitive skin, but when Cas licks up his butt crack, he actually yelps in surprise. </p><p>A hand on his back steadies him. “Would you like me to stop?” Castiel asks, ever the gentleman. </p><p>“N-no,” Dean replies, not sure where Cas is going with this, but willing to find out.</p><p>The tongue that licks over Dean’s hole is gentle, exploratory, and Dean shudders as Cas runs the tip of his tongue around his rim. The sensation is intense, but Dean relaxes into it as Cas loosens him up. The tongue is replaced by the tip of one finger—one of those long, elegant fingers is gently rubbing over his hole. “Is this all right, Dean?” Castiel asks, and Dean finds himself moaning as the finger stretches his rim. </p><p>“Yes, yes...quit teasing me and fuck me, already,” he growls, his breathing heavy where he’s clutching at one of his pillows. He may have never done this before, but he’s always been curious to try, and this is his chance—his one chance.</p><p>Castiel doesn’t oblige immediately, though, taking his time with stretching and relaxing Dean with his fingers and his tongue, until Dean is a writhing mess beneath him. It already feels so good, he’s not sure how he’ll cope with having something shoved in there that’s certainly larger than fingers or any of his toys, but when Cas does grab lube from his nightstand, then straddles his hips to line up and press inside, Dean feels as though he’s being speared open. He’s filled up, literally and magically, the demon magic singing along his nerves as Cas begins to drive into him, gently at first, then faster, heightening the pleasure until Dean’s shouting with the intensity of it. </p><p>As he crests over the edge of his own fireworks show, he can actually feel his magic draining into Castiel this time, a pulling, a letting go. He floats down, aware of Castiel pulling out and flopping down beside him, but it takes him a good few minutes before he opens his eyes and takes in the smiling demon beside him. </p><p>“Thank you, Dean,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly. </p><p>Dean can only make a satisfied hum from where his face is still half-buried in a pillow, but he smiles. His ass doesn’t ache like he thought it might, but that’s probably Cas’ doing with his healing demon magic. Of course incubi would have magical cocks. </p><p>He sighs as he shifts his hips, trying not to think about the sticky mess underneath him just yet.</p><p>Tomorrow they’ll go back to school to take the exam. </p><p>Dean is torn. On one hand, he is severely tempted to purposefully fuck this exam up, walk away from the Grove and never look back. But he now knows Castiel is desperate, that the whole of Demonside is at risk. Can he really deny Castiel his mission? He knows there’s almost zero chance of the Grove actually listening to what he has to say, let alone doing anything about it.</p><p>But if he fails the exam, and Castiel is banished, could Dean live with himself if the magical system of Demonside ends up collapsing?</p><p>And in his post-orgasmic haze, a further question emerges: is he ready to say goodbye to Castiel?</p><p>
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</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Dean carefully raises his hands, facing his palms towards Castiel across their ritual sigil on the classroom floor. </p><p>His magic rises, and with it he feels the answering rush of Castiel's, their power combining to swirl around the circle at their feet, the runes around the outside of it flaring to life in a red glow. </p><p>This is it. Pass or fail, he’s got to make his choice.</p><p>Castiel's black eyes are now glowing dimly red, and his focused look would be completely terrifying if Dean didn't know that Castiel wants him to succeed at this. He might have made his peace with letting his father down, but he finds he can't let Castiel go back to Demonside empty-handed. </p><p>He pulls at the Demonic magic channeled into the sigil, drawing it towards his hands. This ritual is a difficult one, made worse by the fact that he and Castiel haven’t actually practiced this at home. Dean knows what he needs to do, but isn’t sure whether it will actually work or not.</p><p>Thankfully, he finds he shouldn't have been anxious. Any hesitation on his part is taken over with sure precision by Castiel, and soon, magic funnels in a spiral into the battery—a small brass amulet shaped like a horned demon head. The amulet glows white-hot for a moment as the energy is stored in its structure, then fades away to its dull surface once again. </p><p>Dean looks up at Castiel, as both of them allow their magic to dissipate. They've done it—Dean has passed. They're tightly bound, and Dean is a warlock. The corner of Castiel’s mouth quirks up in what Dean now knows is a smile.</p><p>Dean turns, passing the filled demonic battery to Mr. Adler, who looks it over, drawing briefly on its stored magic before handing it to Missouri, standing a step behind him. She smiles, passing the amulet back to Dean, saying, “Well done.”</p><p>“Yes,” Adler agrees. “Against the odds, you both seem to have formed rather a profound kind of bond. Congratulations. We’ll see you at the graduation on Wednesday.” </p><p>Dean closes his fist around the amulet, feeling the way Castiel’s magic buzzes within it, stirring his own in response. At the Grove, their batteries will be larger ingots of bronze or steel capable of storing enough magic to power the city. But this one, Dean will get to keep. Replacing the amulet around his neck, Dean thanks the supervisors and leaves the room, Castiel by his side. </p><p>As soon as they’re around the corner of the hallway, Castiel stops Dean with a hand on his arm. “Dean, thank you. I know you had planned—”</p><p>Dean interrupts him, speaking firmly. “Save the Hallmark, okay? Maybe I can grow a pair and stand up to my old man. Or, I dunno, maybe we could even give the Grove a chance if they come through with your mission, who knows?”</p><p>A warm, proud light in Cas’ eyes makes Dean warm to his toes, but he’s shocked out of it by Charlie barreling into him in a hug. </p><p>“Heeey bitch! You haven’t been in yet? Are they running late?” his friend demands. Must be her turn soon since she’s so amped up—Dean can feel the magic zipping anxiously around her, snapping between them where she’s clutching at his shoulder. </p><p>He grimaces, shaking his head. “Actually, I passed.” </p><p>She gasps. “What?”</p><p>Dean gestures to Castiel beside him. “This is Castiel. Cas, this is Charlie.”</p><p>Cas merely regards her with one eyebrow raised as she takes him in, her eyes wide.</p><p>“Whoa. Hi,” she says, then seems to shake herself out of her surprise. “Okay, can’t chat, gotta get in there.” She turns back to Dean to point at him, her finger in his face. “But I wanna hear all about this later, okay?”</p><p>Dean chuckles. “Sure. Break a leg, kid.” </p><p>Charlie throws a salute over her shoulder as she sweeps past them down the corridor. A sudden blast of warmth at his side makes Dean turn in alarm, only to see a hulking infernal move past him and follow Charlie into the classroom, its heavy stone feet making surprisingly little noise as it lumbers along.</p><p>He turns back to Cas, blowing out a breath through pursed lips. “Guess all that’s left is to try to talk to the Grove.”</p><p>“They seem willing to discuss it,” Cas begins, but he stops when Dean shoots him a disbelieving look. Cas narrows his eyes. “You don’t agree?”</p><p>Dean sighs as he heads for the elevators. “They might discuss it, sure. But will anything happen? Unlikely.”</p><p>Cas turns to him, his attention entirely focused on Dean now. It’s more than slightly unnerving. “What makes you think that?” </p><p>Dean presses the elevator button, stepping back to speak quiet enough that the other students in the area won’t hear. “That’s exactly what the directors always say, is all. They talk and talk, maybe even make some recommendations or whatever, but the bottom line is, they never actually do any of it. My dad used to be one of them, remember? He’s told me all sorts of shitty stories.”</p><p>The look of horror on Cas’ face makes Dean wish he hadn’t said anything. “They never…” The demon trails off as the elevator doors open and they both step inside. </p><p>“Look, it’s gonna be fine, okay?” Dean says. “Maybe they’ll still come through. Stranger things have happened. And if not, we’ll think of something, ” he adds, gesturing between the two of them. “Just might take a bit of time.”</p><p>Castiel frowns, shaking his head slightly. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The ride home is quiet, with Cas frowning out the window the whole way. </p><p>Dean keeps stealing glances over at him, eventually saying, “Come on, man, I passed my freaking exam for you, don't you give up on me now.”</p><p>“I'm not giving up, Dean. I'm weighing up my options.” </p><p>Dean’s brows furrow as he takes this in. He glances over at Cas, alternating between staring at him and the road. “What options? The only option we’ve got is to wait for graduation, right?” </p><p>Cas sighs. He hesitates, rubbing at his face in an almost-human frustration. </p><p>“Spit it out, Cas,” Dean says as he pulls into his apartment complex’s parking area. “There’s a plan B?”</p><p>“I’m not sure what you’re referring to, but a second option, yes. There’s a ritual...I was hoping to avoid it—it’s dangerous.”</p><p>Dean pulls the car into his parking spot and puts his baby into park. He turns to Cas in the sudden silence. “Hit me.”</p><p>Cas squints at him, taken aback. “No, Dean, I don’t want to harm you, why would I—”</p><p>Dean huffs out a short laugh. “I meant tell me. What’s this ritual?”</p><p>“I’d...rather not explain unless it becomes necessary.” Cas turns away, opening the passenger door and climbing out. When Dean joins him and they head for the elevator, Cas says, “I’m also concerned about asking too much of you—more than I already have.”</p><p>“Hey,” Dean says, leaning in to nudge his shoulder companionably. “I’ve already completed my degree for you. As long as whatever it is isn’t too...sticky, I’m in. Or like, kamikaze or anything.”</p><p>“I’m not sure what that means, but hopefully it won’t come to that.” </p><p>Dean watches Cas’ troubled expression all the way up to his floor.</p><p>
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</p><hr/><p> </p><p>That night, they celebrate with pizza and <em>Tombstone</em>, one of Dean’s favorite westerns. Cas seems withdrawn, even less talkative than usual, but when Dean gets worried enough to actually ask him what’s wrong, he brushes it off. </p><p>On Tuesday morning, though, Dean wakes up from a heavy sleep to find Cas sucking him off. The heat of his mouth brings the dream back to life again, the one where he’d burned away to nothing, and he thinks he might have had it more than once, now. But Cas brings him expertly to the edge, and when he shoots his load down Castiel’s throat, it takes him a good few minutes to stop seeing stars.</p><p>The rest of the day passes on the couch, with Dean unwilling to go out. His lingering headache leads to him calling Bobby to get off work, and he gets orders from the old man to take aspirin and go back to bed, which is what he does, more or less. He’d be lying if he said he isn’t enjoying having a sex demon on-tap. He can’t get enough of this, especially when this time Cas strokes him to hardness and rides him until he screams with the intensity of it all.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He drifts again, and when he wakes, the smell of coffee only seems to exacerbate a raging headache. Cas is sitting on the edge of his bed, fully dressed in his suit and trench coat, and shaking him awake gently. When he sees Dean rouse, he leans down to place a kiss on his temple. “Coffee here on the table,” he says, standing again to leave the room. </p><p>Dean props himself up on one elbow, blinking at the sunlight filtering through a gap in his curtains. It’s morning again already? He checks his phone—it’s Wednesday. They’ll need to be off to the graduation in an hour or so.</p><p>Sitting up fully earns him a stomach-churning dizzy spell, but he grabs the coffee and sips at it gratefully, wondering how Cas worked out the Keurig. </p><p>By the time he reaches the bottom of the cup, things are starting to become clearer. He feels like absolute ass, and his head is thumping in time with his heartbeat. He has to dig deep before he even feels a connection to his magic—what is Cas doing to him?</p><p>He drags himself out of bed and totters over to the door, bringing the empty coffee cup with him. Cas is sitting in front of the TV again, but Dean can feel the power radiating off him from across the room. “Dude,” he says, “what the hell’s going on?”</p><p>Cas looks up, surprise clear on his face. “What do you mean? Nothing’s going on.”</p><p>“You’re draining me. Why?” Dean steps forward, swaying a little. “You tryna kill me?” </p><p>“No, of course not.” Cas says, indignant. “But...yes, I have been drawing as much as I can. It’s...it’s insurance, Dean.”</p><p>Dean stares at him. “Just what the hell are you planning to do?”</p><p>Cas’ face is resolute. “What I have to.” </p><p>Dean rolls his eyes at the melodrama and throws his hands up. “Whatever, dude. Just give me a heads up before you get us both killed.”</p><p>He turns and heads for the bathroom, hoping a hot shower will help him feel less like death.</p><p>Before he turns the corner, he hears Cas say, “That’s exactly what I’m trying to prevent, Dean.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s unusually warm for May, and while Dean’s comfortable in his t-shirt and jeans in the breezes blowing between the buildings on campus, the demon is still wearing Dean’s suit, complete with the ugly trench coat he seems to have become attached to. His eyes are back to their clear blue illusion, since they’re walking through public areas.</p><p>“How come you’re still wearing the coat, man? It’s like seventy degrees out here,” he huffs, still pissed with Cas for fucking up his plans. His headache has now taken root just behind his eyes, and painkillers seem to be doing nothing to shift it.</p><p>Castiel stares at him, affronted. “I like this coat.”</p><p>“Whatever,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. He turns back to the path ahead of them, as the imposing facade of Strong Hall looms above them. Dean leads Cas through the foyer area and through the wards, and the warlock world springs into being around them. Demons hurry along beside their warlocks, infernals stand guard outside doors, and the magic that is muted by necessity in the outside world runs freely through the building, always making Dean’s body hum. He’s always enjoyed the feeling of being here, feeling the magical pulse of the world. He’d never felt that when stepping into the Grove’s headquarters, Downtown.</p><p>He turns to Cas, noting that the demon’s black eyes are back in place and taking everything in with curiosity. Dean murmurs, rubbing at his aching forehead, “This way. Hopefully the graduation part won’t take long, and you can deliver your message and we can get out of here.” </p><p>Cas merely nods.</p><p>The administrative building is mostly offices, but there are larger meeting rooms on the upper floors, and that’s where the Council has gathered to meet the newest warlocks.</p><p>Dean enters the room, his eyes immediately drawn to Missouri and Charlie, standing together among the crowd. Relief rushes through him as he moves towards them, noticing Charlie’s infernal standing tall behind her, unmoving as stone. </p><p>“Dean!” Charlie says as he approaches, sounding both pleased and relieved to see him. “Hey there. And hey, Castiel.” </p><p>Castiel merely nods at Charlie, his eyes warm.</p><p>Missouri watches with one eyebrow raised, taking Dean’s hand to shake when he offers it. Her imp sits on her shoulder, making a sour face at Castiel.</p><p>“Congratulations, Dean,” Missouri says, bemused. “I guess you kept him after all, huh?”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.” Dean knows he’s flushing. This whole room is probably looking at Cas and thinking Dean's some kind of sexual deviant. He’s not even sure why he’s so embarrassed about this whole thing—he’s got a reputation on this campus as a Casanova, for fuck’s sake. Surely an incubus isn’t off-brand for him?</p><p>A commotion at the door draws Dean’s attention. The directors enter the room, their demons trailing them—some large infernals, two imps running between the councillors’ feet, a large hellhound trailing one of them.</p><p>The councillors file along the side of the room, stepping up onto the small stage. Dean knows this isn’t all of them, but for five out of the twelve directors who oversee the Grove to be present at the graduation is still a great honor. The people lined up across the stage now are well known to everyone in the room, Warlocks and others alike. Mr. Adler is here again—Dean expected he’d be here after his presence in the exams the last few days. The others stand tall in their long navy robes—Naomi Novak, Uriel Wisdom, Oliver Pryce, and Hester Holmes.</p><p>Ms. Holmes steps forward, speaking clearly across the room. “Welcome, all. Thank you all for gathering here today to celebrate.” She gestures to the floor in front of the stage. “Please take your places, graduates.”</p><p>Dean moves into position with his classmates, standing in a line with Charlie on one side of him and Cas on the other. Only ten of them have passed, it seems. </p><p>“The skills to summon a demon are not easily learned, and you are to be commended for your grasp of the process,” Ms. Holmes says, looking at them each in turn. When she reaches Dean, standing in the end of the line, her eyes narrow. Dean tries giving her a disarming grin, but she looks back to the rest of the room and continues. </p><p>“For over a thousand years, the warlocks of the Grove have worked in partnership with Demonkind to bring prosperity to our people. Ever since the great Magnus himself, we have…” </p><p>Dean struggles to keep his focus on Ms. Holmes’ words. His mind wanders away from the boring history he's heard a million times before, to what the directors are likely to say to Cas' request. Knowing them, it'll probably consist of planning meetings and no real action for Demonside. </p><p>That's what his dad would have said, anyway. He only remembers vague things about seeing John in action on company business, but then, he'd lost his position and his dignity to drink and darkness when Dean was just six years old. He should really make time to go see the old man, now that he’s all official. He'll take Cas along, although God knows what John will think of the incubus. What will he even say to him? “Hey, Dad, here's my demon-turned-fuck-buddy who ruined all my plans, but who I actually like quite a lot…” </p><p>Ms. Holmes is still droning on about some old warlock or other, and Dean's mind drifts to said fuck buddy, the way his tongue burns as it slides over the delicate skin of his nipple, the way he growls as he takes Dean’s cock down his throat like it belongs there, the way he throws his head back when he comes with Dean's dick buried in his ass… </p><p>A hand on the small of his back startles him as magic flows into him, soothing the sudden spike of arousal that has him suddenly aware of the constricting denim around his crotch. Cas’ magic meets his own, and nearly makes his knees buckle with its intensity. Cas' grip on his arm gets tighter, but just as Dean's vision is starting to blur around the edges, Ms. Holmes and Missouri are in his field of vision, in front of Charlie. They'd been down the whole line while Dean was daydreaming? He straightens up as Cas' hand leaves his back. He just has to get through this ceremony, then he can sleep for a week. After a few drinks, of course. </p><p>“Charlie Bradbury, congratulations,” Ms. Holmes intones. </p><p>“Well done, Charlie,” Missouri adds, then holds out her hand and murmurs something under her breath. A small brooch swirls into being, pinned onto the front of Charlie's robe. On it, the green-enamelled branches of a spreading tree are wreathed through with orange flames, to signify the Demon Accords, plus some other symbolic crap that Dean can't quite remember. </p><p>The two women step sideways and look down at Dean and Castiel.</p><p>Ms. Holmes looks down her nose at him as she says, “Dean Winchester, congratulations. An incubus? Very rare, and difficult to both summon, and keep bonded. The council would like to commend you.”</p><p>Dean glances at Cas, who has stepped forward to stand beside him, eyeing him nervously. He wonders if he should tell them that it was Cas who summoned himself, rather than any effort on Dean’s part, but for Cas’ sake, he keeps quiet. He looks back to Ms. Holmes, feeling like a fraud, as he replies, “Thank you, ma’am.”</p><p>Missouri smiles at Dean, adding her congratulations as she manifests the Grove brooch on Dean's robe, just like Charlie's. </p><p>Ms. Holmes turns to Castiel, giving a small bow from the waist. “Castiel, envoy of Demonside. The Council of the Grove welcomes you. What can we do for you?” </p><p>Cas' dark eyes sweep over the group of people arrayed behind her, then return to Ms. Holmes as he speaks. </p><p>“Thank you. The magic in Demonside is failing. I was sent here to ask you to reduce the amount of magic you are drawing from our realm, lest our magic collapse completely.”</p><p>The eyes of the directors all narrow, focusing in on Cas, while murmurs spring up behind Dean. </p><p>“Collapse?” Adler echoes from behind Ms. Holmes, his sneering voice enough to make a student quake, but Cas stands firm as Adler continues, “I doubt that’s the case. Demonic magic is strong as ever, and demons have been summoned to our world with no difficulty—”</p><p>“Lesser demons, yes,” Castiel interrupts, “but I was sent here at great magical expense. You said yourself you haven’t seen one of my kind for a while. Our realm cannot support the drain you’re placing on it.”</p><p>Ms. Holmes stands quietly for a moment, her surprised expression now fallen into a scowl. Dean doesn’t dare move. He can feel the tension radiating off Castiel like he’s some kind of furnace—the power is simmering beneath his skin. Surely Ms. Holmes must be able to feel it, but she doesn’t flinch, merely asks, “What exactly would you have us do, Castiel?”</p><p>“We request that you scale back the use of Demonic magic, slow the rate of demons being pulled from Demonside.” As an interested murmur starts in the crowd gathered behind them, Castiel raises his voice slightly. “The Accord was always meant to be an equal give and take, for the benefit of all, but things have become unbalanced. We merely ask that you help us by bringing magic back into balance between the realms.”</p><p>Ms. Holmes nods, her features grim. “The council will discuss it. Please give us half an hour.” She steps back to address the whole crowd. “Congratulations to all our graduates today. The Grove wishes you long and prosperous careers. Feel free to stay—there are refreshments in the next room, and make sure you get those photos taken.” She grins disarmingly, and Dean can’t suppress a shudder. There's something cold about the woman, although as the audience applauds, Missouri's proud smile warms him up a little. </p><p>The spectators disperse, and the graduates cluster around and congratulate each other. </p><p>Charlie grabs Dean in a hug, murmuring “congratulations” in his ear. Dean eyes the infernal over her shoulder, standing by impassively with its black eyes and gently radiating heat. </p><p>“Thanks, Charles,” he says, pulling back to smile at her. “You too.” He’ll have to tell her the truth eventually, but right now isn’t the time.</p><p>She studies his face for a moment, concern creasing her brow. “You okay, Dean? You look kinda...tired.”</p><p>He grimaces and rubs the back of his neck. Cas really has been draining him the last couple of days. The idea sends a shiver of unease down his spine. “Yeah, it's been a week, hasn't it? I could murder a drink.” His headache is intensifying and his eyes feel like they’re full of sand, but Charlie doesn’t need to hear him complaining. “Let’s go?” He turns to start walking to where the mentioned “refreshments” might be, glancing back at Cas, who’s following a step behind. “Sounds like we’re gonna have to wait around for whatever the directors decide, anyway.” </p><p>They enter the adjoining room, crowded with students and their families. Small demons run around, some perching around the light fittings hanging from the high ceiling, while a few other infernals stand statue-still around the walls. Castiel is the only human-like demon in the room, just as Adler had noted on that first day, and Dean notices more than one person eyeing him as they make their way forward. </p><p>Charlie falls into step with Cas, asking quietly, “Is it true, Cas? Will Demonside really be drained of magic?” </p><p>Cas nods, eyeing her warily. “Potentially, yes. The timeline is uncertain.” </p><p>Charlie shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I had no idea. What can we do?”</p><p>Dean grabs two beers from one of the tables and hands one to Charlie, saying, “Nothing yet.”</p><p>“Well no matter what they decide, you’ve got my support.” Charlie turns as a tall, lanky guy comes towards them. “Oh, hey, Garth! Congrats, dude!”</p><p>Dean congratulates Garth as well and they make small talk for a while, plus a few other of his classmates that have gathered around, but he mostly lets Charlie take the lead in their conversation. His headache is insistent, and as he tips the beer bottle up he realizes he’s already finished it. Huh, must have been more thirsty than he thought. </p><p>Castiel is still standing close behind him, taking in the room full of warlocks with an uneasy wariness that makes Dean feel guilty. He hopes they won’t have to hang around for too long to hear what the council has to say—looks like Cas could do with getting out of here, and Dean isn’t feeling too hot himself right now, anyway. </p><p>He excuses himself from his group of friends and steps back to murmur to Cas, “I’m just going to the, uh...little boys’ room. Wait here with Charlie?” </p><p>Cas frowns, but nods, staying put as Dean weaves through the crowd towards the hallway where the bathrooms are located. He feels unsteady, as though his head is starting to spin slightly, which is weird because he’s only had one beer.</p><p>As he walks through the door and into the nearly empty hallway, he nearly runs right into someone coming the other way—coming face to face with Mr. Adler. Dean sways slightly, his head spinning again with the sudden stop, and Adler grabs his arm to steady him.</p><p>“Dean?” Adler asks. He almost sounds concerned, which disorientates Dean further. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, sorry...just coming down with something, maybe.” Dean shakes his head, stepping back from Adler. He doesn’t need the guy’s sympathy.</p><p>“You’ve been letting that demon feed, haven’t you?”</p><p>“What? No, I—”</p><p>“Demons are not to be trusted, Dean.” He stares at Dean, and when Dean doesn’t reply, he adds, “You know they produce venom, don’t you? To confuse their victim? Encourage attraction?”</p><p>Dean’s mouth falls open at that, and he shuts it again quickly. Venom? That’s a load of crap, isn’t it? He doesn’t remember learning anything about that in demonology. Sure, they’ve been getting pretty busy the last couple of days and Cas is glowing like a freaking Christmas tree, but Dean’s been fully on board with it, hasn’t he? </p><p>The idea hits him—could it be possible everything over the last twenty-four hours has been a drug-induced lie? He glances back over his shoulder but he can’t see Castiel through the classroom doors. </p><p>The smirk is back on Adler’s face. “Your mind is clouded by that creature—it’s draining your energy.” He pushes past Dean to head back inside, adding, “A demon like him? I’m not sure what he’s really after, but you should watch yourself.”</p><p>Dean watches him go, glaring at his back. How dare he refer to Cas as an “it” in the first place, let alone suggest that Cas is playing him? He shakes his head, and heads for the bathroom. </p><p>He takes care of business, but as he’s heading to the sinks lined up on the opposite wall, he catches sight of his own face in the mirror. Deep circles ring his eyes, and he looks pale and tired as he frowns at his reflection. He’s been stressing about the end of school far too much, but Cas has also been draining him too much to be healthy. He seriously doubts there’s any actual venom involved, although some of the darker marks on his neck, as he inspects them in the mirror, may actually have broken skin. He drops his eyes to run his soaped hands under the water, wondering what he should say to Cas.</p><p>A surge of demonic energy sends a prickle up his back, and he looks up into the mirror to see Cas standing there, close behind him. Spinning around, he gapes as Cas growls, “Hello, Dean.”</p><p>Before he can reply, Cas pushes him against the wall beside the sinks, their faces coming close. “You were taking a while. I saw Adler—”</p><p>“I’m fine, Cas, jeez,” Dean gasps as Cas inhales the scent on his neck again, then starts licking at him all over again. “Marking your territory again, buddy?”</p><p>“Yes,” Cas replies shortly between kisses. “There are many demons here. And I don’t like that warlock.”</p><p>Dean pushes Cas away with a handful of the front of his coat and the top of his tie, suddenly breathing harder at how hot this is. “Cas, chill. I’m not about to get busy with an infernal or anything, am I?”</p><p>Cas merely frowns at him, which Dean has to admit is kind of adorable, even with the demonic eyes and the now almost blinding energy surrounding him. Dean’s smile falters as he takes in Cas’ magical energy, like he’s basking in the sun. </p><p>“Cas—” he begins, not sure how to broach the subject. But Cas doesn’t let him finish the thought, leaning in to crush their mouths together once again. He grinds his hips against Dean’s, and Dean is sure he feels the bulge in the demon’s pants. Are they really going to do this here, where anyone could walk in? To his surprise, that idea sends a rush of heat through him and he moans louder than he means to, immediately removing his hand from Cas’ hair to slap it over his own mouth. Cas moves to kissing down his neck again, heading downwards along his collarbone, when a buzzing in Dean’s pocket stops him suddenly. He looks up at Dean expectantly for barely a moment before he renews his assault, dropping to his knees to lift Dean’s shirt and begin kissing over his hipbone. </p><p>“Fuck, Cas,” Dean murmurs, trying to keep his head clear as he fishes his phone out of his pocket and checking it quickly—Charlie’s name is on the screen. He answers it, putting the phone to his ear while Cas is working marks into his skin. “Charlie?” he asks, a little breathlessly.</p><p>“Dean! Stop whatever it is you’re doing in there and get back out here! They’re looking for you.” Charlie doesn’t even give him a chance to reply before she ends the call, and Dean groans as he struggles to get his hands onto Cas’ chest to push him away. </p><p>“Dude, stop...we’ve gotta go,” he says, missing the contact of Cas’ mouth on his skin the moment he pulls away. </p><p>The demon’s eyes are predatory as he stands up before Dean, panting slightly, then before Dean’s eyes, he visibly pulls himself together, straightening his shoulders. He lifts his hand to linger on the side of Dean’s neck for a moment as he draws a deep breath. “Come,” he says, and sweeps out of the bathroom. </p><p>Dean stands, still leaning against the wall, trying to dredge some kind of sense into his brain. He needs to get back out there to hear what the council has to say, but his traitorous dick has other ideas. He adjusts himself in his jeans, hurriedly crossing to the sinks and splashing a little water on his flushed cheeks, and follows after the demon. </p><p>Back in the classroom they’d held the graduation in, the Council are standing on the stage, arrayed facing the room. Castiel stands before them, tall and proud, his hands clasped behind his back, while some of the rest of the crowd from the other room have filtered back in and stand around the back of the room, murmuring to each other.</p><p>Dean wonders whether he should join Castiel where he stands. He owes it to the demon to stand with him, since their magic is bound, their bond strong. Even if, he thinks wryly, he feels like a stiff breeze might blow him over at the moment. </p><p>“Castiel,” Ms. Holmes says as Dean steps forward to join Cas. “We’ve discussed the matter you brought before us, and we’re willing to assist you.” Dean raises his brows, surprised, but a glance at Cas shows him standing still, stoic as he waits. Ms. Holmes continues, “However, warlock society is heavily bound to Demonic magic. We can’t simply stop using a resource like that. But” —she pauses for dramatic asshole effect— “we will convene a working group to put together a plan to reduce our use over time.”</p><p>Castiel steps forward, his voice a low growl through gritted teeth. “Over time? I’ve already waited too many days here while magic is dwindling. Demonside doesn’t have time to spare. Demons will no longer be able to cast our healing magic, or the magic we use to make crops grow. The whole Accords will be for nothing if no magical exchange can take place!” </p><p>“I’m sorry, but that’s the best we can offer right now!” Ms. Holmes says, obviously rattled by Cas’ speech. “Thank you for bringing it to our attention, but please leave it with us, and go in peace.” She turns away, and Cas steps back again, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.</p><p>Dean reaches out to put a hand on Cas’ arm, partly to calm him, but also to try to steady himself. It sucks that the council aren’t taking the Demonside issue more seriously, but hardly surprising. </p><p>Castiel turns abruptly, wrenching his arm out of Dean’s grasp. He heads for the door of the classroom, the crowd that had gathered to watch the exchange scattering to get out of the demon’s way. </p><p>Dean follows, and as he reaches the elevators where Cas is waiting, brooding so hard Dean's surprised steam isn’t pouring out his ears. Charlie is two steps behind him, her demon bringing up the rear.</p><p>“Dean,” she murmurs, speaking quietly in his ear. “He said earlier there was another option. Just text me, okay?” </p><p>“Will do. Thanks Charlie,” Dean says at her, smiling as he hugs her quickly. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“You were right, Dean.” Castiel stomps his way across the quad, Dean trailing along a few steps behind. Evening sunlight slants across the campus, casting long shadows in stripes across the grass between buildings and trees. “They will talk, and any action taken will be too late.”</p><p>Dean stumbles a little on the grass as he tries to keep up. His feet feel heavy, and his head is fuzzy, like he drank ten beers instead of one. “We should’ve waited for Charlie,” he pants. He reaches out to grab Castiel’s coat sleeve, pulling him to a stop. “Cas, what’s plan B?”</p><p>Cas turns abruptly to face Dean, looking surprised as Dean sways in front of him.</p><p>“Dean, you’re not well,” Cas says, his voice full of concern.</p><p>“‘M fine,” Dean says, trying to keep his feet. “C’mon, tell me the plan.”</p><p>Cas reaches up to place one hand on the side of Dean’s face. “I’ve taken too much from you, I’m sorry. I need to get you home.”</p><p>“Not yet,” Dean says, gripping the demon's shoulder and firmly looking him in the eye. </p><p>Cas hesitates, gently swiping his thumb across Dean's cheek. “My mission was clear. I was to try to convince the warlocks to slow their drain on Demonic magic, and if they would not agree to it…”</p><p>He hesitates, withdrawing his hand as a group of students walk past across the quad, heading the opposite way. When they've moved away again, he leans in close. </p><p>“The ritual will create…a conduit, I suppose. An opening between the worlds, to allow magic to flow freely. A more permanent arrangement than the Accords. The ritual will strip Demonic magic from this world and send it back to Demonside.”</p><p>“What, all of it?” Dean says, shocked. </p><p>Castiel puts one hand on Dean’s shoulder, his blue eyes flashing in the intensity of his gaze. “Enough to restore the magical balance. I must save my people, Dean.”</p><p>Dean stares at him, not quite believing his ears. A portal, created and maintained by magic? He hesitates, lost in how frustrated, how desperate Castiel sounds. How can he deny this man the chance to save the magic of both their realms? </p><p>He swallows heavily, asking hoarsely, “Look, Cas, I might be a shitty warlock but I know something like that’s gonna take way more magic than either of us might be able to pull together. Maybe a bunch of warlocks and their demons, but us, alone? We’d burn out. It’s suicide.”</p><p>Cas shrugs. “Maybe. But I have to try. I’ll do this without your help, although that would be less likely to succeed.”</p><p>Dean rolls his shoulders as he turns to continue walking to where he’d parked the car earlier, trying to stretch out the ache that seems to have settled in his back. Could he really help a demon alter the way warlocks use magic? There’s no question it’s reckless—he has no idea what Cas is capable of, if he really can create some way to balance the magical flow. But to purposely fuck with the way magic works? They could bring the entire Grove to its knees. </p><p>“I dunno, Cas,” he says, lifting a hand to rub at his forehead. “I just graduated with a degree I didn’t want, I feel like hammered crap, and all I want to do is go home and sleep.” They approach the Impala and he walks around to the driver’s door, noticing Cas’ thundercloud look over the car’s roof. “Hey, don’t give me that look. Said I’d help you, didn’t I?” </p><p>Cas is already sitting on the passenger side when Dean sits down and pulls the door closed. “Thank you, Dean. I appreciate everything you’ve done so far.”</p><p>Dean fumbles the key into the ignition, but doesn’t start her up right away. “Not like I had much of a choice, right?” He casts a tired look at Castiel. “Adler says you’re mind controlling me, with your, uh” —he waves a hand at Cas’ body, trying to remember the words Adler had used— “venom, or some shit. Draining me.” </p><p>“He says—” Cas stops, his face darkening. He splutters, “I do not have <em>venom</em>. Pheromones, perhaps.” He reaches out to put a hand on Dean’s forearm, his tone softening. “But Dean, I would never force you into anything.”</p><p>Dean takes in the look of dismay on Cas' face, the sincerity in his eyes. He's desperate, that's for sure, and if he's lying, he's a master at it. </p><p>“I believe you, okay? I do. But can we not jump into any potentially dangerous rituals right now? Let’s go grab some burgers, call Charlie to come over, and we can discuss this. Okay?” He shuffles closer into Cas space, reaching out to take his hand lightly then leaning into him to press a kiss to the side of his mouth. “Said I’d help you, and I will,” he murmurs, their faces close together. With Cas so upset, he feels a little awkward doing it, as though the demon might shy away. But he doesn’t, instead watching Dean for a few moments, then leans in to kiss him softly in return. </p><p>“Thank you, Dean,” he murmurs, squeezing Dean’s hand, and Dean feels warm all over. </p><p>Dean fires off a quick text to Charlie before they get back into the car to head home. </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Dean returns from the kitchen with two beers to see Charlie and Cas with heads bent together, deep in discussion. </p><p>Charlie accepts the new beer from Dean, taking a long swallow before she says anything. “I’m in.”</p><p>Dean blinks at her. “In?”</p><p>“Yup,” she says. “A chance to help the demons and stick it to the Grove at the same time? Don’t you dare try to stop me.” </p><p>Dean sighs. Once Charlie gets invested in a mission, it’s almost impossible to slow her roll. He'd rather she kept safely out of this, but he has a feeling they're gonna need her skills to get this ritual done. </p><p>Cas finally speaks up. “You said yourself we can’t do it alone, Dean. Charlie has offered to help—and there’s no need for further delay.”</p><p>“Wait, you wanna do this tonight? This is a bad idea,” he begins, but Charlie speaks over him.</p><p>“Me and Ed will back you up,” she says, nodding.</p><p>Dean stares at her for a moment. “Who the hell’s Ed?”</p><p>Charlie raises her eyebrows, like Dean’s stupid for not knowing already. “My infernal? His name in Demonic isn’t something I’m willing to try to wrap my tongue around, so I just call him Ed for short.”</p><p>Dean nods, deadpan. “Of course you do.” He turns back to Cas. “Okay so, how the hell do you want to do this?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The Downtown area is busy at this time of night. Students are out celebrating the end of the school year, and Friday night means the office workers have joined them. </p><p>Dean winds his way through the crowd, gripping Castiel’s hand as he drags the blue-eyed demon along behind him. He'd agreed to leave his car at home, letting Cas fly the two of them across town, which had been five times worse than the first time despite only taking half a second longer, but at least his baby’s not around to get tagged on some security camera.</p><p>His head is still pounding, but the couple of beers and burgers he had while they planned this has taken the edge off his exhaustion.</p><p>The Grove complex is made up of several buildings, centered around a large area of parkland. As they make their way between the buildings down a narrow alley heavily warded against non-magical folk, Dean’s worry increases ten-fold. The pathways might be deserted, the buildings mostly dark, but they’re being watched—he’s sure of it. He lets go of Cas’ hand as they walk along the side of one of the high-rises.</p><p>Warlocks of the Grove may draw magic for power-generating spells and rituals from their demons, but their Earth magic comes from pulse points across the Earth’s surface. This sacred grove is one of many across the country. A cluster of ancient trees stands here, paths running through and around it. And this is where Cas has decided the ritual must be performed. </p><p>Dean’s first reaction had been a complete rejection of the idea. They’re gonna get caught. This area is protected by all sorts of wardings and spells, he was sure there was no way they’d be able to cast anything without Grove security coming down on them like a ton of bricks. But Charlie had been confident. </p><p>“I can buy you a little time to get started,” she’d said, smiling in a way that did absolutely nothing to ease Dean’s mind.</p><p>And now, here they are. Standing in front of the huge, spreading trees. Fireflies dance between branches over their heads, and the air all around them is practically shimmering with the magical flow. </p><p>“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Dean mutters. Cas doesn’t say anything, but Dean can see the tension in every line of his body as he surveys the park in the dim lights along the edges of the pathways criss-crossing the space.</p><p>Charlie had told them to give her five minutes once they reached the complex. She’d grinned as she said, “When you start to feel the currents shift, do the thing.” They still weren’t the most comforting of words—Dean could feel the wardings tightly woven between the trees, spells touching every blade of grass in here. How did Charlie have any idea how to remove it?</p><p>Dean sighs, and Cas glances at him. “Come on,” the demon says, moving forward into the park.</p><p>Wondering again how he let himself get dragged into this, Dean follows Cas, dragging his feet. His head is heavy, his neck and back aching, but at least right now his head is clearer than it has been all day. His magic is stronger, here, buoying him up with the focal power of the Grove.</p><p>Cas, on the other hand, is like a beacon in this place. He pulses with power, all the magic he’s been drawing from Dean the last few days amplified by the spells channeling the Earth’s power. </p><p>They walk well into the park, until they reach a cleared, grassy area out of sight of any of the Grove buildings. Cas sets down the bag of supplies they’d picked up on their way here, pulling out five candles to spread in a circle. </p><p>Cas drags a white, chalky line on the grass to connect the candles across the circle, forming a pentagram within their circle. Meanwhile, Dean places a metal bowl in the center and pulls out the ingredients for the ritual from the bag. Charlie had called some friend of hers named Frank, and the guy had brought them everything on their list out the front of the bar as they’d left. The guy had been shady as fuck—Dean has no idea how Charlie even knows him, but everything seems to be here. Dean has no idea where these small bones have come from, and he tries not to think too hard about it. Some aspects of being a warlock have always given him the heebs. </p><p>He tips the bones into the bowl with a melodic clatter, and adds some dried thyme. The rest will have to wait until it's time to cast, so he gets to his feet and steps back out of the sigil to where Cas stands. </p><p>The demon looks over his shoulder at the dark trees behind him, the glow of the candle throwing his face into sharp outlines of shadow. He shifts his feet, and when he looks back to Dean, he seems nervous for the first time tonight. Dean's deep feeling of unease hasn't gone anywhere. </p><p>“You sure you want to do this tonight, Cas?” Dean asks quietly. </p><p>“Yes. Although I don't know if it will work. It's never been cast before, but in theory everything is correct…”</p><p>Dean steps closer to him, reaching out to take his hand gently and giving it a squeeze. “It’ll work, then.”</p><p>“It's not that,” Cas replies, his eyes cast down at the ritual ingredients on the ground. “Dean, I'm grateful to you for all of your help. For all that you've given me. I’m sorry that I came between you and your plans for the future. Should anything happen…I wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Why is this sounding so much like a goodbye?” Dean says, his voice sounding rough in the night air.</p><p>“I…” Cas stands still, but Dean sees his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his coat. “When I came here with the intent to allow you to bind me, I…did not expect to feel anything for you, but I feel…”</p><p>“Feel what?” Dean whispers, their lips barely an inch apart. </p><p>Cas closes the distance, and his mouth brushing Dean’s feels like a soothing balm. He lets out a hum of approval as Cas licks into his mouth, and they spend a few moments trading kisses, their movements slow and gentle. </p><p>“I do not want anything to harm you, Dean,” Cas murmurs, resting his forehead against Dean’s.</p><p>Dean draws a breath, then lets it out again. He tries to infuse his words with a bravado he isn't feeling. “Come on, it's gonna be fine. We're strong together—even you on your own could work miracles, Cas. We’ve got this.” </p><p>The two of them may have only met a few days ago, but Dean can’t help but wish it had been under different circumstances. There’s something about the demon that pulls Dean out of his comfort zone—not to mention the intimacy of their magical bond adds a whole extra level to the sexual chemistry they already share. Yes, Cas chose his form on this plane in order to please Dean, but Dean is pretty desperate for this all to go right for a bunch of reasons that aren’t limited to his wish to see Cas naked again.</p><p>Before Dean can lean in and kiss him again, there's a shift in the magic within their circle of trees. The air feels less tight suddenly, as though they can finally breathe again. </p><p>Dean glances away towards the trees at the edge of the clearing, but when nothing else happens and no security personnel appear, he turns back to Cas. “Charlie?” he breathes. </p><p>The demon looks down at his hand as he flexes it, and a red, glowing flame escapes between the fingers of his fist as he clenches it. He looks back to Dean, a small smile on his face. If it wasn't so hot, it would be freaking <em>terrifying</em>. </p><p>The demon's smile has changed into a determined clenching of teeth. “It's time,” he growls. </p><p>Dean leans in once more to kiss him softly, before stepping back to allow Cas to move into the pentagram on the grass. Dean lights the candles with a flick of his fingers, and their flames flicker in a slight breeze. “What do you need?” he asks, hovering nearby as Cas drops to his knees in front of the bowl. </p><p>“Give me your hand,” Cas says. As Dean leans forward to offer his hands, palm-up, Cas unsheathes a small blade that had been part of their borrowed items. He grabs Dean's wrist and slices him across the palm before he has time to blink, holding him tightly as he bleeds a few drops into the bowl on the ground. Before Dean can even hiss in a breath between his teeth, Cas has placed his hand over Dean’s bleeding one and murmured a few words, healing him. </p><p>Dean stares at his now unmarked hand, but his eyes jump back to Cas as the guy slices his own palm, allowing the blood to drip into the bowl as well. He begins to chant in a low voice, and Dean can feel the magical current shifting already as Cas grabs a jar they’d swiped from the lab earlier, screwing off the lid and sprinkling in some of the contents—Dead Sea salt, if Dean remembers correctly.</p><p>Dean hovers around, not sure what Cas is  doing. This is all backwards—he should be the one performing the ritual, as the warlock, the channel for the Earth’s magic in this realm, but Cas is already powered up with the Earth energy he’s drained from Dean during the past few days—there’s no stopping him as he clicks his fingers, creating a flame on the end of one long finger, and touching it to the contents of the bowl. Immediately, the ritual ingredients go up in a whoosh of flame, and the magical current bursts forth from the Earth, pinning Dean in place as it rushes up through his feet, filling him with a fierce, bright energy. </p><p>Now that he’s charged up, Dean can see the glowing energy fields surrounding them—streams of pulsing magic flooding the clearing from the ground up into the air, turning the trees around them bright silver and gold against the darkness. When Dean turns to Castiel, the demon is glowing with energy as he continues chanting. The bond between them is almost a visible entity, the rushing streams of magic between them enough for Dean to gasp in wonder. </p><p>When Cas turns towards him, his eyes closed tightly, Dean’s knees nearly buckle underneath him. Cas’ hair whips around his head, the magical halo bright and silvery at the edges, and behind his shoulders, two great, black wings are tucked close to his back. Castiel opens his eyes, bright red and glowing. He looks ethereally beautiful, and Dean is suddenly struck with awe by this creature who would risk his life for the good of both their realms. </p><p>Cas reaches out one hand, and Dean flinches away, but the glowing hand claps him on the shoulder—Dean can feel it burn him, searing through the fabric of his jacket and shirt. </p><p>Castiel comes closer, his red eyes closing again as he leans in to kiss Dean. The kiss is sweet at first, but soon turns anything but sensual as the magic flows out from the Earth, through Dean and into Castiel, all of it, everything he’s got. His mouth burns, he tastes sulphur. It’s just like that dream he’d had the other night—he’s burning away to ash. </p><p>Dean can feel a tearing inside him, inside all of him—his head, his heart. The magical flow is ripping him apart one strand at a time, and it hurts like hell. </p><p>But then, the burning is gone. A cool sensation ripples down his throat, spreading outwards.</p><p>Cas pulls back, putting his other too-hot palm on Dean’s cheek gripping it like he might crush his jaw. His eyes like a glowing furnace, he shouts over the roar of the magic, “Dean, I’m sorry!” </p><p>Cas turns his face to the sky, releases Dean and steps back from him. </p><p>Then, he vanishes. </p><p>Dean calls out, “No!”</p><p>But Cas has gone, along with all the magic they’ve generated together. </p><p>Dean falls to his knees on the grass, unaware of his surroundings. He gasps in a sobbing breath, feeling empty, hollow. His bond with Cas is gone, broken so completely that he feels as though a limb is missing. His own magic is barely a flicker within him, and while he fights to keep the black from encroaching on the edges of his vision, as humans and flashing lights surround him and lift him up and away, he surrenders to the cold darkness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean throws back the whiskey, dropping the empty glass onto the bar and waiting for the girl to bring the bottle back. </p><p>Beside him, Charlie huffs. “Slow down, dude, you’re gonna make yourself sick.” </p><p>“Don’t care.” Dean catches the attention of the barkeep and smiles disarmingly as she returns, bottle in hand. All he wants to do tonight is drink until the pain dulls.</p><p>“Whatever,” Charlie mutters. “Well, seems I’ve managed to get you off the hook. I mean, you’re probably still on some watch list or something, but at least now they think you were just under the influence of a powerful incubus.”</p><p>Dean’s chest gives a painful lurch at the mention of Cas. Taking a mouthful of his whiskey, he nods. “Thanks, Charlie.”</p><p>He hasn’t been able to find out from anyone exactly what had happened that night. All he knows is, he’d woken up in hospital, exhausted and heartbroken, after having been discovered within the Grove complex next to the remains of their ritual and with a blistered burn on his shoulder in the shape of a handprint.</p><p>At first, he’d assumed the ritual hadn’t worked, that they’d pulled too much energy and Cas had either been blasted back to his own realm, or into nothingness. Dean had been devastated to realize that he would probably never know. </p><p>Demons have gone. Not just Cas, but all bonds between demons and their warlocks have been severed, and the demons have disappeared. Magic still works, though. Earth energy is still available, and there is a small amount of ambient Demonic magic present in the Earthly realm—apparently warlock researchers are scrambling to come up with rituals to extract residual Demonic magic for their own uses, as well as try to amplify Earth magic.</p><p>It seems the ritual has worked after all, and the levels of magic are balancing out. That son of a bitch did it. </p><p>But even now, two weeks later, Dean can’t help but feel like Cas betrayed him. If he’d known in advance that the spell would banish all demons, or that it would cost him his life, he’d kept it all from Dean. While it hurts him to think Cas didn’t trust him enough to share it, he’s not sure he would have helped Cas the way he did if he’d known what would happen.</p><p>All he knows is, Cas is gone. Of course it’s possible Adler had been right all along—Cas used him to get when he needed—played him like a fiddle. The idea stings the more he pokes at it, hence the drinking to forget.</p><p>The Grove have offered him a job even after all of this, but the idea of casting for them, of pulling any kind of Demonic magic, or even having to summon someone new feels so wrong…but he guesses he’ll be able to help Charlie with whatever undermining work she’s planning to do from the inside, since she also still has a job despite losing Ed.</p><p>He’s got Charlie to thank for getting them out of this without facing jail time, and at least he still has a job out of it. But he needs to go and visit the old man. Tell him the truth about his degree, about his career plans. Then decide what he’s gonna do.</p><p>He’s aware of Charlie’s pitying look, but still can’t help flinching as she says, “You miss him, don’t you?”</p><p>Dean feels ridiculous—he’d only know Cas for a few days, but he hadn’t realized how deep their bond had become, nor how much he’d gotten used to the guy being around. His hand moves to grip his own shoulder, where the burn is still healing. </p><p>“I’ll get over it,” he mutters, and downs the new glass.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Dean shades his eyes from the low afternoon sun as he crosses the lawn. At least the grounds here at the Shawnee Assisted Living Center are nice, with magnolias blooming along the edges. Their sweet scent washes over him as he approaches the low-set building.</p><p>He doesn’t want to be here. He longs to be back on his couch with his comfort Netflix and whiskey bottle. But no, he’s gotta do this. He squares his shoulders, and opens the glass door. </p><p>Inside, a central, open-plan foyer opens up at the end of the corridor, the rooms radiating outwards from there along long corridors. His dad’s room is off to the left—it’s been a few weeks since he’s been here, but nothing has changed. </p><p>Knocking gently on room 305’s door, he enters at a gruff “It’s open.” John has just stood up from his chair, but he doesn’t move forward as Dean enters the room and closes the door behind him. </p><p>“Hey, Dean,” he says, a soft smile lighting up his face despite the obvious pain he’s in standing like this. </p><p>“Dad, sit down, it’s fine,” Dean says, rushing forward to help him if he needs it, but his dad just grabs him and hugs him. Something cracks inside Dean, and he clings to his dad, trying to hold in the choked feeling in his throat.</p><p>John pulls back, smiling through watery eyes. “Look at you, Mister Warlock, huh?” he says, his voice breaking slightly, before he clears his throat.</p><p>Dean just gives him a little shrug, not really trusting his own voice as his dad turns to clutch at the arm of the chair to help him back into it. With his body ruined by liver disease and god-knows-what after effects of dark magic, John Winchester is old before his time. Mentally, though, he’s fine, closer to the dad Dean used to know and love than the grief-mad, broken man driven for revenge for his wife’s death at the hands of a rogue demon. If the rumors Dean's heard are true, he's even been seeing the daughter of another resident here—Kate. Dean's gotta hand it to him—he’s taken back what he can of his life. </p><p>John settles in his chair, smiling again as Dean sits on the other side of his small table. “I’m proud of you, you know that?” </p><p>Dean glows under the praise even though he feels uncomfortable accepting it. "Thanks, but did you hear what happened?" He puts the packs of jerky he'd brought for his dad on the table. Dean knew the business at the Grove had been in the news, but he wasn't sure if Charlie had covered up his involvement in time. </p><p>His dad nods. "Heard there was some sort of breach at the Grove and the demons are gone?" </p><p>Dean chuckles, trying to keep his guilt under wraps. The old man would sniff him out in a second if he let on. "Yeah, somethin' like that." </p><p>"And you?" His dad leaned forwards, putting his elbows on the table. "You would have had one for what, only a few days before it all went down, right?" At Dean's nod, he continues. "So what're they doin' about it? Are demons answering the summons? You just graduated and you’re out of a job now?" </p><p>"Whoa, okay, no," Dean says, raising his hands. "No, the demons aren't answering, but the Grove still offered me a job. Starting in a couple weeks—they say they'll have the demon situation under control by then, but between you'n me, there'll probably be some magic shortages before then, so you keep whatever batteries you've got stashed, if you've got any, okay?"</p><p>John leans back in his chair, taking it all in. "I'm not allowed to keep that sort of thing here, y'know…with my history. But that's good they're still givin' you a job."</p><p>Dean takes a deep breath, holding it in for a few seconds. It's now or never, and there's no failing out this time. Letting the breath out on a chuckle, he rubs the back of his neck before dropping his hand back into his lap. </p><p>"Actually, Dad…" </p><p>He pauses, not sure he's got the spoons to do this. Dean's pictured this moment a hundred times, his dad sitting forward, waiting, his expression curious. Dean lifts his hand again, fingering at the amulet hanging on top of his t-shirt, feeling the lingering whisper of Cas' magic still within it. He forces himself to look his dad in the eye. </p><p>"I'm not gonna take the job."</p><p>John's eyebrows raise. Dean braces for impact, but all his dad says is, "You're not?" </p><p>Dean makes a conscious attempt to unclench his jaw. "I can't work for the Grove, Dad—I haven't wanted to for years. And now that demons are gone, who knows what the job will even involve?"</p><p>His dad nods, as though mulling it over. "But… Your degree, all the hard work you've been puttin' in. I thought you loved it?" </p><p>Dean winces. Here it comes. “I did, for a while. But my demon—the one I summoned for my exam?—he…opened my eyes to a few things.” He keeps the amulet between his fingers as he speaks.</p><p>“Oh. Well, okay then.” </p><p>Dean looks up at his dad’s answer. He almost sounds…relieved? He cocks one ear towards him. “Sorry, what?”</p><p>“Those assholes in the company don’t deserve you anyway. I was only supporting you 'cause I thought it's what you wanted.”</p><p>Dean can only gape. “So, you're not…disappointed?”</p><p>His dad shakes his head, looking a little sad. “Well, I'm disappointed you didn't tell me sooner. All I want, all I've ever wanted, is for you and Sammy to be happy.”</p><p>Dean has to clench his fist around the amulet and swallow hard against the sudden tight feeling in his throat. He doesn't trust himself to speak, but his dad continues with a smile, “Don't you go telling me that Sam's not happy over there in Cali at his expensive-ass law school?” </p><p>Dean chokes out a laugh, shaking his head. Relief courses through him. How could this be happening? “No sir,” he says, “he's happier 'n a kid in a candy store.” </p><p>“Good.” John smiles, then quirks an eyebrow. “So you’ll stay on with Bobby, then?”</p><p>Dean’s grateful to his dad for recognizing how much he enjoys working at Bobby’s. “Guess so. For now at least.” </p><p>His dad nods again. “Okay.” He leans forward, his eyes alight. “You’d better tell me about this eye-opening demon o' yours."</p><p>Dean touches the amulet at his chest again. </p><p>"Castiel. His name was Castiel." </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The park within the Grove complex is once again dark and quiet as Dean stumbles along the concrete path between the trees. He can feel the energy here, the swirl of magic, pushing and pulling.</p><p>He isn’t sure what he expects to find here tonight, but nothing remains of the ritual he and Cas performed. The grass is smooth and even, gray in the dim glow of the lights around the edge of the clearing.</p><p>Pulling the mostly-full bottle of whiskey out of his bag, he unscrews the cap and takes a swig, wincing at the harshness on his throat as he swallows. He’s still pissed at Cas for not telling him the whole plan—he’s almost sure Cas had changed the words of the ritual there at the end.</p><p>Whatever that had become of the demon, the ritual had worked, sure enough. Energy is flowing between Earth and Demonside, leveling out and balancing as the days go by. Cas has done it.</p><p>Magic moves around him, Demonic magic brushing over his senses, replaced by Earth magic a moment later. He shakes his head. Most warlocks had gotten over their severed bonds within a few days, but here’s Dean, feeling it like a gaping wound in his chest two weeks later. He and Cas had shared something in their five days together, and apparently Dean’s unable to let him go. </p><p>“I told my dad, Cas,” he says quietly, into the push-pull of magic around the clearing. “I told him I didn’t want to work for the Grove, and he was actually cool with it.”</p><p>He looks around, but all is quiet, the magic still gently swirling back and forth.</p><p>“Where are you, you son of a bitch?” he mutters, turning damp eyes to the trees far overhead.</p><p>He closes his eyes against the empty park, turning back to leave. He drinks from the bottle again, willing himself to get the fuck over it as he stashes the bottle back inside his bag and heads for the waiting Uber. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Twenty minutes later, Dean slams the door of the Uber and staggers up the path towards the door of his apartment block, fumbling for his keys in his jacket pocket.</p><p>As he approaches the door, he nearly runs into someone standing there, in his doorway. Someone tall, dark-haired, and wearing a long coat, even in the warm summer evening. </p><p>“Hello, Dean,” the person rumbles, and Dean is almost certain he’s dreaming now. </p><p>“Cas? How…?” Dean stumbles into him, and he’s real, and solid, and full of magic once again. </p><p>Cas holds Dean up by the shoulders, his black eyes concerned. “You’re drunk,” he says, frowning as he takes in Dean’s state. </p><p>Dean tries to give the demon his most annoyed look. “Well, whaddya expect? I thought you were dead, asshole!” Dean says, pushing ineffectually at the demon’s shoulder. “You just...disappeared! What happened?”</p><p>“Dean, stop.” Castiel grips his shoulders, and in a blink, they’re standing inside Dean’s quiet apartment.</p><p>“Hey—” Dean begins, but Cas lets go of him abruptly, leaving him swaying in place. A moment later, the lights come on, leaving him blinking in the brightness. He stumbles over to sink down on the couch, disoriented.</p><p>When Cas joins him there, Dean turns to him, still not quite able to believe what he’s seeing. “What happened? How are you—?” He reaches out, running his slightly numb fingertips down the stubble on Cas’ cheek. </p><p>“The ritual worked—the portal is open. Magic is balanced once again.” </p><p>Dean takes in the triumphant look on Cas’ face, the barely there smile. Fuck, he’s missed him. </p><p>But he’s got to get this right, got to find out what the hell had happened. “That’s great and all, but you coulda told me what was going to happen, Cas. You drained me of magic, then vanished into nothing!” He gets to his feet, leaving Cas sitting on the couch. “I woke up in the fucking ICU two days later!” He steps away, pacing across the room to look out the window into the night, still feeling slightly unsteady on his feet.</p><p>Cas shakes his head. “I’m sorry, it was my mistake. At first I thought you might be able to take the extra charge, but you were burning up. It was too much. I drained the energy from you and cast the spell myself.”</p><p>“And just how the hell did you know that would work, huh?” He steps back towards Cas, pointing a finger at him. “Did you know all the demon bonds would break?” </p><p>Cas looks away, guilt splashed across his features. “I didn’t know if any of it would work. I...I didn’t think you’d help me if that was part of the deal.”</p><p>“You’re damn right about that.” Dean rubs at his forehead as he paces across the room again. So Cas had actually saved his life, before potentially sacrificing his own. He turns, stopping in place. “So, what now? How’re you back here, unbound? Gonna feed on some locals?”</p><p>Cas looks affronted, “No! No, I...I heard your call. You sounded distressed.”</p><p>His words in the Grove had somehow gotten through? Dean winced as he considered how many other demons might have overheard. </p><p>“You heard that?” He looks down at his feet. “The doctors told me the breaking of a binding without a banishment is dangerous, creates nasty side effects.” It had hurt like hell, but he doesn’t want to admit that. He continues, shrugging. “I guess I just…missed you.” </p><p>Cas gets to his feet, stepping closer. “Oh, Dean,” he breathes. “I also suffered after the bonds broke.”</p><p>Dean closes his eyes, enjoying the feel of Cas’ palms on his jaw, on his cheek. Soft lips press against his once more—he opens up to let Cas taste him. </p><p>“I’m glad you're here, man,” Dean says. </p><p>Cas leans his forehead against Dean’s. “If you want me to, I’ll always come back to you.” </p><p>Dean draws a sliver of magic as he runs his hand through Cas’ hair and down the back of his neck.“Do you promise?” </p><p>“I promise,” Cas says, then presses his lips to Dean’s again.</p><p>Dean shudders with the sensation of their magic rising, but he gasps out, “Promise once more?” </p><p>Three times for a binding to be complete.</p><p>Cas draws his face back a little, locking eyes with Dean as he also realizes the significance. He says, slowly and clearly, “I promise.”</p><p>This time as they undress, trading soft kisses as they go, their magic pushes and pulls gently. Dean knows something is different now, but isn’t sure what it is until he leaves Cas’ lips to nuzzle at his neck instead—as he inhales he notices Cas’ thunderstorm scent is different, muted. His own magic isn’t surging to fill him. Castiel isn’t trying to feed on him anymore.</p><p>“Cas?” he asks as the demon sits down on Dean’s bed, pulling Dean down to straddle his knees. </p><p>“Mm?” Cas replies, grabbing their hard, smooth lengths in his hand and moving them together, pulling a gasp from Dean.</p><p>Dean battles his way through a pleasurable haze to say what he’s been trying to say. “You can feed on me...if you want to.” </p><p>“I don’t need to right now. There’s only one binding holding me here,” Cas says, staring up into Dean’s eyes as he slowly pumps his fist between them, “and it isn’t bound to Earth magic. Just you and me, together.”</p><p>Dean smiles, finally allowing himself to believe that he might be allowed to have this more than this one last time. Cas came back for him, and he’s hanging around. He leans forward to kiss Cas deeply, letting his worries melt away. </p><p>“I guess it’s my turn to do the taking, then,” he growls into Cas’ mouth, then pushes Cas back until he’s lying on his back. He shuffles back off Cas’ legs so he can spread them, then he rubs two fingers right over Cas’ hole. “Gonna let me in, Cas?”</p><p>Cas groans, a filthy, wrecked sound already, a sound Dean has missed so much. He climbs back onto the bed, lining himself up and pushing in slowly, enjoying the tight slide. Cas is hot, and wet, and so, so good, just as he remembers. </p><p>As they move together, bringing each other closer to the edge, Cas reaches up to place his hand over the scar on Dean’s shoulder where his handprint was seared. Dean feels Cas gathering his magic, but he knocks Cas’ hand away before he can release a spell. </p><p>At Cas’ questioning look, Dean asks, “You were gonna heal it, weren’t you? Leave it.”</p><p>“You like bearing my mark?” Cas growls, his eyes flashing red as his magic simmers to the surface.</p><p>Dean nods, and Cas replaces his hand on the scar, his hot palm searing into Dean’s shoulder once again. Dean throws his head back as he drives into Cas, gasping at the magic singing through his body. </p><p>He comes with white light flashing behind his eyelids and magic rushing through him, and as they lie together afterwards, sleepy and warm, Dean knows that whatever else comes, he’ll be happy with a demon like him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading this story! I'd love to hear your thoughts, before you go check out the other great stories posted in the Harlequin collection for this year.</p><p>Would you consider sharing this story? <a href="https://twitter.com/Ellen_of_Oz/status/1293002096237666305?s=19">Here's a tweet</a> to share, or a <a href="https://ellen-of-oz.tumblr.com/post/626121414867566592/A-Demon-Like-Him-by-EllenOfOz-for-the">tumblr post here</a>.</p><p>So normally, I wouldn't make John a sympathetic character. I really dislike the way they redeemed him in episode 300, but for this story, I needed him to not be an asshole. So please forgive me, John haters xD</p><p>Stay well and safe &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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